DOMESTIC  TALES 

AM) 

ALLEGORIES; 

ILLUSTRATING   HUMAN   LIFE 


I.  THE  SHEPHERD  OF  SALISBURY  PLAIN. 

II.  MR.  FANTOM. 

HI.  THE  TWO  SHOEMAKERS. 
IV.  GILES  THE  POACHER. 
V.  THE  SERVANT  TURNED  SOLDIER. 
VI.  THE  GENERAL  JAIL  DELIVERY. 


BY  HANNAH  MORE 


NEW    YORK: 

».  APPLETON  &  CO.,  90,  92  &  94  GRAND  ST. 

1869. 

/ 


/yifC 


NOTICE. 


Probably  that  portion  of  Hannah  Mere's  iteiary 
works  which,  when  originally  pubhshed,  were  most 
beneficial,  and  which  still  are  adapted  to  the  most  ex- 
tensive usefulness,  is  the  collection  of  narratives  enti- 
tled, "  The  Cheap  Repository  Tales."  They  were 
designed  as  antidotes  to  those  demoralizing  ballads 
and  fictions  which  were  dift'used  among  the  multi- 
tudes who  have  little  leisure  or  inclination  for  grave 
meditations.  Hence  they  combine  useful  instruction 
in  the  most  familiar  form,  and  inculcate  the  purest 
Christian  morals,  with  the  exhibition  of  practical 
piety,  not  in  the  mandatory  tone  of  the  didactic  moni- 
tor, but  in  the  exemplary  portraitures  of  our  constant 
associates,  and  the  actual  occurrences  of  ordinary  life. 

Two  of  those  Tales  only  are  much  known  in  this 
country — "  All  for  the  Best,"  and  "  The  Shepherd  of 
Salisbury  Plain."  The  latter  has  been  prefixed,  be- 
cause it  is  so  highly  appreciated,  and  because  it  un- 
folds the  true  character  of  the  whole  series. 

The  Tales  are  not  fictitious,  although  the  home- 
ly facts  are  embellished  by  the  author's  imaginative 
adorning. 


But  "  The  Shepherd  of  SaHsbury  Plain  !"  He  was 
not  the  child  of  meUorating  fiction.  Who  could  be- 
hold his  healthful,  weather-beaten,  but  placid  coun- 
tenance, his  long  gray  hair,  and  his  white,  russet, 
sheep-like  garments,  and  listen  to  his  prayer  and 
praise,  and  then  forget  the  lowly  but  contented  and 
thankful  Saunders?  The  narra  or  has  superadded 
some  circumstances  with  which  he  was  not  en- 
circled; but  his  domestic  habits  of  life,  and  his 
personal  traits  and  social  grouping,  are  sufficiently 
accurate  to  embalm  the  memory  of  that  honest  pil- 
grim, with  whom  Thomas  Wastfield  the  preacher  at 
Imber  associated,  although  "poor  in  this  world,  as  rich 
in  faith,"  and  with  whom  Harvet's  friend  Stone- 
house,  immortalized  in  the  "  Meditations  among  the 
Tombs  ;"  and  by  Hannah  More  as  the  traveller,  Mr. 
Johnson,  delighted  to  commune  during  their  earthly 
sojourn,  in  anticipation  of  the  loftier,  deathless  fellow- 
ship, where  the  Shepherds  of  the  church,  and  the 
Shepherd  of  the  flocks  on  the  plain. 

Now  with  transporting  joys  recount 
The  labors  of  their  feet. 

This  volume  is  published  with  the  assurance,  tliat 
the  reader,  after  the  perusal,  will  testify  that  these 
"  Domestic  Tales  and  Allegories,"  by  Hannah  More, 
are  equally  valuable  in  their  interest  and  edification. 

New  York,  June  13, 1844. 


DOMESTIC 

TALES  AND  ALLEGORIES. 


I.    THE  SHEPHERD  OF  SALISBURY  PLAIN. 

Mr.  Johnson,  a  very  worthy  charitable  gentleman, 
was  travelling  some  time  ago  across  one  of  those  vast 
plains  which  are  well  known  in  Wiltshire.  It  was  a 
fine  summer's  evening,  and  he  rode  slowly  that  he 
might  have  leisure  to  admire  God  in  the  works  of  his 
creation.  For  this  gentleman  was  of  opinion,  that  a 
walk  or  a  ride  was  as  proper  a  time  as  any  to  think 
about  good  things  :  for  which  reason,  on  such  occa- 
sions, he  seldom  thought  so  much  about  his  money, 
or  his  trade,  or  public  news,  as  at  other  times,  that  he 
might  with  more  ease  and  satisfaction  enjoy  the  pious 
thought  which  the  wonderful  works  of  the  great 
Maker  of  heaven  and  earth  are  intended  to  raise  in 
the  mind. 

As  this  serene  contemplation  of  the  visible  heavens 
insensibly  lifted  up  his  mind  from  the  works  of  God 
in  nature,  to  the  same  God  as  he  is  seen  in  Revelation, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  this  very  connexion  was  clearly 
intimated  by  the  Royal  Prophet  in  the  nineteenth 
Psalm.  That  most  beautiful  description  of  the  great- 
ness and  power  of  God  exhibited  in  the  former  part, 
plainly  seeming  intended  to  introduce,  illustrate,  and 
anfoLd  the  operations  of  the  word  and  Spirit  of  God 
on  the  heart  in  the  latter.     And  he  began  to  run  a 


6  DOMESTIC    TALKS    AND    ALl-EGORIES. 

parallel  in  his  own  mind  between  the  effects  of  that 
highly  poetical  and  glowing  picture  of  the  material 
Bun  in  searching  and  warming  the  earth,  in  the  first 
six  verses,  and  the  spiritual  operation  attributed  to  the 
"  law  of  God,"  which  fills  up  the  remaining  part  of  the 
Psalm.  And  he  persuaded  himself  that  the  divine 
Spirit  which  dictated  this  fine  hymn,  liad  left  it  as  a 
kind  of  general  intimation  to  what  use  we  were  to 
convert  our  admiration  of  created  things  ;  namely, 
that  we  might  be  led  by  a  sight  of  them  to  raise  our 
views  from  the  kingdom  of  nature  to  that  of  grace, 
and  that  flie  contemplation  of  God  in  his  works 
might  draw  us  to  contemplate  him  in  his  word. 

In  the  midst  of  these  reflections,  Mr.  Johnson's 
attention  was  all  of  a  sudden  called  oft'  by  the  barking 
of  a  shepherd's  dog,  and  looking  up  he  spied  one  of 
those  little  huts,  which  are  here  and  there  to  be  seen 
on  those  great  downs  ;  and  near  it  was  the  shepherd 
himself  busily  employed  with  his  dog  in  collecting 
together  his  vast  flock  of  sheep.  As  he  drew  nearer, 
he  perceived  him  to  be  a  clean,  well-looking,  poor 
man,  neqr  fifty  years  of  age.  His  coat,  though  at 
first  it  had  probably  been  one  of  dark  color,  had  been 
in  a  long  course  of  years  so  often  patched  with  differ- 
ent sorts  of  cloth,  that  it  was  now  become  hard  to 
say  which  had  been  the  oi'iginal  color.  But  this, 
while  it  gave  a  plain  proof  of  the  shepherd's  poverty, 
equally  proved  the  exceeding  neatness,  industry,  and 
good  m/magement  of  his  wife.  His  stockings  no  less 
proved  her  good  house-wifery,  for  they  were  entirely 
covered  with  dams  of  diff'erent  colored  worsted,  but 
had  not  a  hole  in  them  ;  and  his  shirt,  though  nearly 
as  coarse  as  the  sails  of  a  ship,  was  as  white  as  the 
drifted  snow,  and  was  neatly  mended  where  time  had 
either  made  a  rent,  or  worn  it  thin.  This  furnishes  a 
rule  of  judging,  by  which  one  shall  seldom  be  de- 
ceived. If  I  meet  with  a  laborer,  hedging,  ditching, 
or  mending  the  highways,  with  his  stockings  and 
shirt  tight  and  whole,  however  mean   and  bad  hig 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISEURT    PIiAI?».  7 

otlier  garments  are,  I  have  seldom  failed,  on  visiting 
his  cottage,  to  find  that  also  clean  and  well-ordered, 
and  his  wife  notable,  and  worthy  of  encouragement. 
Whereas  a  poor  woman,  who  will  be  lying  a-bed,  or 
gossiping  with  her  neighbors  when  she  ought  to  be 
fitting  out  her  husband  in  a  cleanly  manner,  will  sel- 
dom be  found  to  be  veiy  good  in  other  respects. 

This  was  not  the  case  with  our  shepherd  ;  and  Mr. 
Johnson  was  not  more  struck  with  the  decency  of 
his  mean  and  frugal  dress,  than  with  his  open  honest 
countenance,  which  bore  strong  marks  of  health, 
cheerfulness,  and  spirit. 

Mr.  Johnson,  who  was  on  a  journey,  and  some- 
what fearful  from  the  appearance  of  the  sky,  that  rain 
was  at  no  great  distance,  accosted  the  shepherd  with 
asking  what  sort  of  weather  he  thought  it  would  be 
on  the  morrow.  "  It  will  be  such  weather  as  pleases 
me,"  answered  the  shepherd.  Though  the  answer 
was  delivered  in  the  mildest  and  most  civil  tone  that 
could  be  imagined,  the  gentleman  thought  the  words 
themselves  rather  rude  and  surly,  and  asked  him  how 
that  could  be.  "  Because,"  replied  the  shepherd, 
"  it  will  be  such  weather  as  shall  please  God,  and 
whatever  pleases  him  always  pleases  me." 

Mr.  Johnson,  who  delighted  in  good  men  and  good 
things,  was  very  w6ll  satisfied  with  his  reply.  For 
he  justly  thought  that  though  a  hypocrite  may  easily 
contrive  to  appear  better  than  he  really  is  to  a  stranger  ; 
and  that  no  one  should  be  too  soon  trusted,  merely 
for  having  a  few  good  words  in  his  mouth;  yet  as  he 
knew  that  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  lieart  the 
mouth  speaketh,  he  always  accustomed  himself  to 
judge  favorably  of  those  who  had  a  serious  deport- 
ment and  solid  manner  of  speaking.  It  looks  as  if  it 
proceeded  from  a  good  habit,  said  he,  and  though  1 
may  now  and  then  be  deceived  by  it,  yet  it  has  not 
often  happened  to  me  to  be  so.  Whereas  if  a  man 
accosts  me  with  an  idle,  dissolute,  vulgar,  indecent, 
or  profane  expression   I  have  never  been  deceived  in 


8  tJOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

him,  but  have  generally  on  inquiry  found  his  charac- 
ter to  be  as  bad  as  his  language  gave  me  room  to 
expect. 

He  entered  into  conversation  with  the  shepherd  in 
the  following  manner  :  "  Yours  is  a  troublesome  life, 
honest  friend,"  said  he.  "  To  be  sure,  sir,"  replied 
the  shepherd,  "  'tis  not  a  very  lazy  life  ;  but  'tis  not 
near  so  toilsome  as  that  which  my  Great  Master 
led  for  my  sake  ;  and  he  had  every  state  and  condition 
of  life  at  his  choice,  and  chose  a  hard  one  ;  while  I 
only  submit  to  the  lot  that  is  appointed  to  me."  "  You 
are  exposed  to  great  cold  and  heat,"  said  the  gentle- 
man: "True  sir,"  said  the  shepherd;  "but  then  I 
am  not  exposed  to  great  temptations  ;  and  so  throwing 
one  thing  against  another,  God  is  pleased  to  contrive 
to  make  things  more  equal  than  we  poor,  ignorant, 
short-sighted  creatures  are  apt  to  think.  David  was 
happier  when  he  kept  his  father's  sheep  on  such  a 
plain  as  this,  and  employed  in  singing  some  of  his 
own  Psalms  perhaps,  than  ever  he  was  when  he  be- 
came king  of  Israel  and  Judah.  And  I  dare  say  we 
should  never  have  had  some  of  the  most  beautiful 
texts  in  all  those  fine  Psalms,  if  he  had  not  been  a 
shepherd,  which  enabled  him  to  make  so  many  fine 
comparisons  and  similitudes,  as  one  may  say,  from 
country  life,  flocks  of  sheep,  hills  and  valleys,  fields 
of  corn,  and  fountains  of  water." 

"  You  think,  then,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  that  a 
laborious  life  is  a  happy  one."  "  I  do,  sir  ;  and  more 
BO  especially,  as  it  exposes  a  man  to  fewer  sins.  If 
King  Saul  had  continued  a  poor  laborious  man  to  the 
end  of  his  days,  he  might  have  lived  haj)py  and  hon- 
est, and  died  a  natural  death  in  his  bed  at  last,  which 
you  know,  sir,  was  more  than  he  did.  But  I  speak 
with  reverence,  for  it  was  divine  Providence  over- 
ruled all  that,  you  know,  sir,  and  I  do  not  presume  to 
naake  comparisons.  Besides,  sir,  my  employment  has 
been  particularly  honored — Moses  was  a  shepherd  in 
the  plains  of  Midian.     It  was  to  "  stepherds  keeping 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN-  9 

their  flocks  by  nie;ht"  that  the  angels  appeared  in 
Bethlehem,  to  tell  the  best  news,  the  gladdest  tidings, 
that  ever  were  revealed  to  poor  sinful  men  ;  often  and 
often  has  the  thought  warmed  my  poor  heart  hi  the 
coldest  night,  and  filled  me  with  more  joy  and  thank- 
fulness than  the  best  supper  could  have  done." 

Here  the  shepherd  stopped,  for  he  began  to  feel 
that  he  had  made  too  free,  and  talked  too  long.  But 
Mr.  Johnson  was  so  well  pleased  with  what  he  said, 
and  with  the  cheerful  contented  manner  in  which  he 
said  it,  that  he  desired  him  to  go  on  freely,  for  that  it 
was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  meet  with  a  plain  man,  who, 
without  any  kind  of  learning  but  what  he  had  got 
from  the  Bible,  was  able  to  talk  so  well  on  a  subject 
in  which  all  men,  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  are 
equally  concerned. 

"  Indeed  I  am  afraid  I  make  too  bold,  sir,  for  it  bet- 
ter becomes  me  to  listen  to  such  a  gentleman  as  you 
seem  to  be,  than  to  talk  in  my  poor  way  :  but  as  I 
was  saying,  sir,  I  wonder  all  working  men  do  not  de- 
rive as  great  joy  and  delight  as  I  do  from  thinking 
how  God  has  honored  poverty  !  Oh  !  sir,  what  great, 
or  rich,  or  mighty  men  have  had  such  honor  put  on 
them,  or  their  condition,  as  shepherds,  tent-makers, 
fishermen,  and  carpenters  have  had?  Beside,  it 
seems  as  if  God  honored  industry  also.  The  way  of 
duty  is  not  only  the  way  of  safety,  but  it  is  remsrka- 
ole  how  many  in  the  exercise  of  the  common  duties 
of  their  calling,  humbly  and  rightly  performed,  as  we 
may  suppose,  have  found  honors,  preferment,  and 
blessing ;  while  it  does  not  occur  to  me  that  the 
whole  sacred  volume  presents  a  single  instance  of  a 
like  blessing  conferred  on  idleness.  Rebekah,  Rachel, 
and  Jethro's  daughters,  were  diligently  employed  in 
the  lowest  occupations  of  a  country  life,  when  Prov- 
idence^  by  means  of  those  very  occupations,  raised 
them  up  husbands  so  fiimous  in  history,  as  Isaac, 
Jacob,  and  the  prophet  Moses.  The  shepherds  were 
neither  playing   nor  sleeping,   but   "watching  their 


10  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

flocks,"  when  they  received  the  news  of  a  Saviors 
birth  :  and  the  woman  of  Samaria,  by  the  laboriou? 
office  of  drawing  water,  was  brought  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  Him  who  gave  her  to  drink  of  "  living 
water." 

"My  honest  friend,"  said  the  gentleman,  "I  per- 
ceive you  are  well  acquainted  with  scripture."  "  Yes, 
sir,  pretty  well,  blessed  be  God  !  through  his  mercy 
I  learned  to  read  when  I  was  a  little  boy ;  though 
reading  was  not  so  common  when  I  was  a  child,  as,  I 
am  told,  through  the  goodness  of  Providence  and  the 
generosity  of  the  rich,  it  is  likely  to  become  now-a- 
days.  I  believe  there  is  no  day  for  the  last  thirty 
years  that  I  have  not  peeped  at  my  Bible.  If  we 
can't  find  time  to  read  a  chapter,  I  defy  any  man  to 
say  he  can't  find  time  to  read  a  verse  :  and  a  single 
text,  sir,  well  followed,  and  put  in  practice  eveiy  day, 
would  make  no  bad  figure  at  the  year's  end;  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  texts,  without  the  loss  of  a 
moment's  time,  would  make  a  pretty  stock,  a  little 
golden  treasuiy,  as  one  may  say,  from  new-year's 
day  to  new-year's  day  ;  and  if  children  were  brought 
up  to  it,  they  would  come  to  look  for  their  text  as 
naturally  as  they  do  for  their  breakfast.  No  laboring 
man,  'tis  true  has  so  much  leisure  as  a  shepherd,  for 
while  the  flock  is  feeding  I  am  obliged  to  be  still, 
and  at  such  times  I  can  now  and  then  tap  a  shoe  for 
my  children  or  myself,  which  is  a  great  saving  to 
us,  and  while  I  am  doing  that  I  repeat  a  chapter  or  a 
psalm,  which  makes  the  time  pass  pleasantly  in  this 
wild  solitary  place.  I  can  say  the  best  part  of  the 
New  Testament  by  heart ;  1  believe  I  should  not  say 
the  best  part,  for  every  part  is  good,  but  I  mean  the 
greatest  part.  I  have  led  but  a  lonely  life,  and  have 
often  had  but  little  to  eat,  but  my  Bible  has  been 
meat,  drink,  and  company  to  me,  as  I  nray  say,  and 
when  want  and  trouble  have  come  upon  me,  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  have  done  indeed,  sir,  if  I  had 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  11 

not  had  the  promises   of  this  book  for  my  stay  and 
support " 

"You  have  had  great  difficulties  then?"  said  Mr 
Johnson.  "  Why,  as  to  that,  sir,  not  more  than 
neighbor's  fare ;  I  have  but  little  cause  to  complain, 
and  much  to  be  thankful ;  but  I  have  had  some  Uttle 
struggles,  as  I  will  leave  you  to  judge.  I  have  a  wife 
and  eight  children,  whom  I  bred  up  in  that  little  cot- 
tage which  you  see  under  the  hill,  about  half  a  mile 
off."  "  What,  that  with  the  smoke  coming  out  of 
the  chimney  ?"  said  the  gentleman.  "  O  no,  sir," 
replied  the  shepherd,  smiling,  "  we  have  seldom 
smoke  in  the  evening,  for  we  have  little  to  cook,  and 
firing  is  veiy  dear  in  these  parts.  'Tis  that  cottage 
which  you  see  on  the  left  hand  of  the  church,  near 
that  little  tuft  of  hawthorns." — "  What,  that  hovel 
with  only  one  room  above  and  below,  with  scarcely 
any  chimney  ?  how  is  it  possible  that  you  can  live 
there  with  such  a  family  ?"  "  O  it  is  very  possible, 
and  very  certain  too,"  cried  the  shepherd.  "  How 
many  better  men  have  been  worse  lodged  !  how  many 
good  Christians  have  perished  in  prisons  and  dun- 
geons, in  comparison  of  which  my  cottage  is  a 
palace !  The  house  is  very  well,  sir ;  and  if  the 
rain  did  not  sometimes  beat  down  upon  us  through 
the  thatch  when  we  are  a-bed,  I  should  not  desire  a 
better ;  for  I  have  health,  peace,  and  liberty,  ?nd  no 
man  maketh  me  afraid." 

"  Well,  I  will  certainly  call  on  you  before  it  be 
long ,  but  how  can  you  contrive  to  lodge  so  many 
children  ?"  "  We  do  the  best  we  can,  sir.  My  poor 
wife  is  a  very  sickly  woman;  or  we  should  always 
have  done  tolerably  well.  There  are  no  gentry  in 
the  parish,  so  that  she  has  not  met  with  any  great 
assistance  in  her  sickness.  The  good  curate  of  the 
parish,  who  lives  in  that  pretty  parsonage  in  the  val- 
ley, is  veiy  willing,  but  not  very  able  to  assist  us  on 
these  trying  occasions,  for  he  has  little  enough  for 
himself,  and  a  large  family  into  the  bargain.     Yet  he 


12  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES 

does  what  he  can,  and  more  than  many  other  men  Jo, 
and  more  than  he  can  well  aflbrd.  Beside  that,  hia 
prayers  and  good  advice  we  are  always  sure  of,  am' 
we  are  truly  thankful  for  that,  for  a  man  must  give 
you  know  sir,  according  to  what  he  hath,  and  not 
according  to  what  he  hath  not." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  that  your  dif- 
ficulties may  sometimes  lead  you  to  repiue." 

"No.  sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "it  pleases  God 
to  give  me  two  ways  of  bearing  up  under  them.  I 
pray  that  they  may  be  either  removed  or  sanctified  to 
me.  Beside,  if  my  road  be  right  I  am  contented, 
though  it  be  rough  and  uneven.  I  do  not  so  much 
stagger  at  hardships  in  the  right  way,  as  I  dread  a 
false  security,  and  a  hollow  peace,  while  I  may  be 
walking  in  a  more  smooth,  but  less  safe  way.  Beside, 
sir,  I  strengthen  my  faith  by  recollecting  what  the 
best  men  have  suffered,  and  my  hope,  with  the  view 
of  the  shortness  of  all  suffering.  It  is  a  good  hint, 
sir,  of  the  vanity  of  all  earthly  possessions,  that 
though  the  whole  Land  of  Promise  was  his,  yet  the 
first  bit  of  grotind  which  Abraham,  the  father  of  the 
faithful,  got  possession  of,  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  was 
a  grave. 

"Are  you  in  any  distress  at  present?"  said  Mr. 
Johnson.  "  No,  sir,  thank  God,"  replied  the  shep- 
herd "  I  get  my  shilling  a-day,  and  most  of  my 
children  will  soon  be  able  to  earn  something;  for  we 
have  only  three  under  five  years  old." — "  Only!"  said 
the  gentleman,  "that  is  a  heavy  burden." — "Not  at 
at  all ;  God  fits  the  back  to  it.  Though  my  wife  is 
not  able  to  do  any  out-of-door  work,  yet  she  breeds 
up  our  children  to  such  habits  of  industiy,  that  our 
little  maids,  before  they  are  six  years  old,  can  first  get 
a  half-penny,  and  then  a  penny  a  day  by  knitting. 
The  boys,  who  are  too  little  to  do  hard  work,  get  a 
trifle  by  keeping  the  birds  off  the  com  ;  for  this  the 
farmers  will  give  them  a  penny  or  two  pence,  and  now 
and  then  fi  bit  of  bread  and  cheese  into  the  bargain. 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  1? 

Wheu  the  season  oi"  crow-keeping  is  over,  then  they 
^lean  or  pick  stones  ;  anything  is  better  than  idleness, 
6ir,  and  if  they  did  not  get  a  farthing  by  it,  I  would 
make  them  do  it  just  the  same,  for  the  sake  of  giving 
them  early  habits  of  labor. 

"  So  you  see,  sir,  I  am  not  so  badly  ofif  as  many 
are ;  nay,  if  it  were  not  that  it  costs  me  so  much  in 
'pothecaiy's  stuft'  for  my  poor  wife,  I  should  reckon 
myself  well  off,  nay  I  do  reckon  myself  well  off;  foi 
blessed  be  God,  he  has  granted  her  life  to  my  prayers, 
and  I  Avould  work  myself  to  a  'natomy,  and  live  on 
one  meal  a  day,  to  add  any  comfort  to  her  valuable 
life ;  indeed  I  have  often  done  the  last,  and  thought  it 
no  great  matter  neither." 

While  they  were  in  this  part  of  the  discourse,  a 
fine,  plump,  cheny-cheek  little  girl  ran  up  out  of 
breath,  with  a  smile  on  her  young  happy  face,  and 
without  taking  any  notice  of  the  gentleman,  cried  out 
with  great  joy — "  Look  here,  father,  only  see  how 
much  I  have  got!"  Mr.  Johnson  was  much  struck 
with  her  simplicity,  but  puzzled  to  know  what  was 
the  occasion  of  this  great  joy.  On  looking  at  her  he 
perceived  a  small  quantity  of  coarse  wool,  some  of 
which  had  found  its  way  through  the  holes  of  her 
clean  but  scanty  and  ragged  woollen  apron.  The 
father  said,  "  This  has  been  a  successful  day  indeed, 
Molly,  but  don't  you  see  the  gentleman?"  Molly 
now  made  a  courtesy  down  to  the  very  ground;  while 
Mr.  Johnson  inquired  into  the  cause  of  mutual  sat- 
isfaction which  both  father  and  daughter  had  ex 
pressed,  at  the  unusual  good  fortune  of  the  day. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  shepherd,  "  poverty  is  a  great 
sharpener  of  the  wits — My  wife  and  I  can  not  endure 
to  see  our  children,  poor  as  they  are,  without  shoea 
and  stockings,  not  only  on  account  of  the  pinching 
cold  which  cramjjs  their  poor  little  limbs,  but  because 
it  degrades  and  debases  them  ;  and  poor  people  who 
have  but  little  regard  to  appearances,  will  seldom  be 
found  to  have  any  great  regard  for  honesty  and  good* 
2 


14  UOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEfiORIES. 

ness  ;  I  don't  say  this  is  always  the  case;  but  I  am 
sure  it  is  so  too  often.  Now  shoes  and  stockings 
being  veiy  dear,  we  could  never  ailbrd  to  get  them 
without  a  little  contrivance.  I  must  show  you  how 
I  manage  about  the  shoes  when  you  condescend  to 
call  at  our  cottage,  sir ;  as  to  stockings,  this  is  one 
way  we  take  to  help  to  get  them.  My  young  ones, 
who  are  too  little  to  do  much  work,  sometimes  wan- 
der at  odd  hours  over  the  hills  for  the  chance  of  find- 
ing what  little  wool  the  sheep  may  drop  when  they 
rub  themselves,  as  they  are  apt  to  do  against  the 
bushes.  These  scattered  bits  of  wool  the  children 
pick  out  of  tlie  brambles,  which  I  see  have  torn  sad 
holes  in  Molly's  apron  to-day  ;  they  cany  this  wool 
home,  and  when  they  have  got  a  pretty  parcel  to- 
gether, their  mother  cards  it ;  for  she  can  sit  and  card 
in  the  chimney  corner,  when  she  is  not  able  to  wash 
or  work  about  house.  The  biggest  girl  then  spins 
it;  it  does  very  well  for  us  without  dying,  for  poor 
people  must  not  stand  for  the  color  of  their  stockings. 
After  this  our  httle  boys  knit  it  for  themselves,  while 
they  are  employed  in  keeping  cows  in  the  fields,  and 
after  they  get  home  at  night.  As  for  the  knitting 
which  the  girls  and  their  mother  do,  that  is  chiefly  for 
sale,  which  helps  to  pay  our  rent." 

Mr.  Johnson  lifted  up  his  eyes  in  silent  astonish- 
ment, at  the  shifts  which  honest  poverty  can  make 
rather  than  beg  or  steal ;  and  was  surprised  to  think 
now  many  ways  of  subsisting  there  are,  which  those 
who  live  at  their  ease  little  suspect.  He  secretly  re- 
solved to  be  more  attentive  to  his  own  petty  expenses 
than  he  had  hitherto  been ;  and  to  be  more  watchful 
that  nothing  was  wasted  in  his  family. 

But  to  return  to  the  shepherd.  Mr.  Johnson  told 
him  that  as  he  must  needs  be  at  his  friend's  house, 
who  lived  many  miles  off,  that  night,  he  could  not,  as 
he  wished  to  do,  make  a  visit  to  his  cottage  at  present. 
"  But  I  will  certainly  do  it,"  said  he,  "  on  my  return, 
for  I  long  to  see  your  wife  and  her  nice  little  family, 
and  to  be  an  eyewitness  of   her  neatness  and  good 


THE    SHEPHERl*    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  15 

management.  The  poor  man's  tears  started  into  his 
eyes  on  hearing  the  commendation  bestowed  on  his 
wife  ;  and  Aviping  them  otY  with  the  sleeve  of  his 
coat,  for  he  was  not  worth  a  handlvcrchief  in  the 
world,  he  said — "Oh  sir,  you  just  now,  I  am  afraid, 
called  me  an  humble  man,  but  indeed  I  am  a  very 
proud  one." — "  Proud  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Johnson,  "I 
hope  not — Pride  is  a  great  sin,  and  as  the  poor  are 
liable  to  it  as  well  as  the  rich,  so  good  a  man  as  you 
seem  to  be,  ought  to  guard  against  it." — "  Sir,"  said 
he,  "  you  are  right,  but  I  am  not  proud  of  myself, 
God  knows  I  have  nothing  to  be  proud  of.  I  am  a 
poor  sinner,  but  indeed,  sir,  I  am  proud  of  my  wife  ; 
she  is  not  only  the  most  tidy,  notable  woman  on  the 
plain,  but  she  is  the  kindest  wife  and  mother,  and  the 
most  contented,  thankful  Christian  that  I  know. 
Last  year  I  thought  I  should  have  lost  her,  in  a 
violent  fit  of  the  rheumatism,  caught  by  going  to  work 
too  soon  after  her  lying-in,  I  fear;  for  'tis  but  a  bleak 
coldish  place,  as  you  may  see,  sir,  in  winter,  and 
sometimes  the  snow  lies  so  long  under  the  hill,  that  I 
can  hardly  make  myself  a  path  to  get  out  and  buy  a 
few  necessaries  in  the  next  village  ;  and  we  are  afraid 
to  send  out  the  children,  for  fear  they  should  be  lost 
when  the  snow  is  deep.  So,  as  I  was  saying,  the 
poor  soul  was  very  bad  indeed,  and  for  several  weeks 
lost  the  use  of  all  her  limbs  except  her  hands  ;  a 
merciful  Providence  spared  her  the  use  of  these,  so 
that  when  she  could  not  turn  in  her  bed,  she  could 
contrive  to  patch  a  rag  or  two  for  her  family.  She 
was  always  saying,  had  it  not  been  for  the  great  goor^ 
ness  of  God,  she  might  have  had  her  liands  lame  as 
well  as  her  feet,  or  the  palsy  instead  of  the  rheuma- 
tism, and  then  she  could  have  done  nothing — but,  no 
body  had  so  many  mercies  as  she  had. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  what  we  suffered  during  that 
bitter  weather,  sir,  but  my  wife's  faith  and  patience 
during  that  trying  time,  were  as  good  a  lesson  to  me 
as  any  sermon  I  could  hear,  and  yet  Mr.  Jenkins 


16  DOMESTIC     TALES    AND    ALLEGOR,  E8. 

gave  lis  very  comfortable  ones,  too,  that  helped  to 
keep  up  my  spirits." 

"I  fear,  shepherd,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  you  have 
found  this  to  be  but  a  bad  world." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "but  it  is  gov- 
erned by  a  good  God.  And  though  my  trials  have 
now  and  then  been  sharp,  why  then,  sir,  as  the  saying 
is,  if  the  pain  be  violent,  it  is  seldom  lasting,  and  if  it 
be  bi:t  moderate,  why  then  we  can  bear  it  the  longer, 
and  when  it  is  quite  taken  away,  ease  is  the  more 
precious,  and  gratitude  is  quickened  by  the  remem- 
brance ;  thus  every  way,  and  in  eveiy  case,  I  can 
always  find  out  a  reason  for  vindicating  Providence." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  how  do  you  do  to 
support  yourself  under  the  pressure  of  actual  want. 
Is  not  hunger  a  great  weakener  of  your  faith?" 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "  I  endeavor  to  live 
upon  the  promises.  You  who  abound  in  the  good 
things  of  this  world  are  apt  to  set  too  high  a  value  on 
them.  Suppose,  sir,  the  king,  seeing  me  hard  at 
work,  were  to  say  to  me,  that,  if  I  would  patiently 
work  on  till  Christmas,  a  fine  palace  and  a  great  estate 
should  be  the  reward  of  my  labors.  Do  you  think, 
sir,  that  a  little  hunger,  or  a  little  wet  would  make 
me  flinch,  when  I  was  sure  that  a  few  months  would 
put  me  in  possession !  Should  I  not  say  to  myself 
frequently — Cheer  up,  shepherd,  'tis  but  till  Christ- 
mas !  Now  is  there  not  much  less  difference  between 
this  supposed  day  and  Christmas,  when  I  should  take 
possession  of  the  estate  and  palace,  than  there  is  be 
tween  time  and  eternity,  when  J  'am  sui'e  of  entering 
on  a  kingdom  not  made  with  hands  ?  There  is  some 
comparison  between  a  moment  and  a  thousand  years, 
because  a  thousand  years  are  made  up  of  moments, 
all  time  being  made  up  of  the  same  sort  of  stuff,  as  I 
may  say  ;  while  there  is  no  sort  of  comparison  be- 
tween the  longest  portion  of  time  and  eternity.  You 
know,  sir,  there  is  no  way  of  measuring  two  things, 
one  of  which  has  length  and  breadth,  which  showa 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  17 

it  must  have  an  end  somewhere,  and  another  thing 
which  being  eternal,  is  without  end  and  withou 
measure." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  is  not  the  fear  of  death 
sometimes  too  strong  for  your  faith?" 

"  Blessed  be  God,  sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "  the 
dark  passage  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  is  made  safe  by  the  power  of  Him  who  con- 
quered death.  I  know,  indeed,  we  shall  go  as  naked 
out  of  this  world  as  we  came  into  it,  but  an  humble 
penitent  will  not  be  found  naked  in  the  other  world, 
sir.  My  Bible  tells  me  of  garments  of  praise  and 
robes  of  righteousness.  And  is  it  not  a  support,  sir, 
under  any  of  the  petty  difficulties  and  distresses  here, 
to  be  assured  by  the  word  of  Him  who  can  not  lie, 
that  those  who  were  in  white  robes  came  out  of  trib- 
ulation? But,  sir,  I  beg  your  pardon  for  being  so 
talkative.  Indeed,  you  great  folks  can  hardly  imagine 
how  it  raises  and  cheers  a  poor  man's  heart,  when 
such  as  you  condescend  to  talk  familiarly  to  him  on 
religious  subjects.  It  seems  to  be  a  practical  com- 
ment on  that  text  which  says,  the  rich  and  the  j^oor 
meet  together,  the  Lord  is  the  maker  of  them  all.  And 
so  far  from  creating  disrespect,  sir,  and  that  nonsensi- 
cal wicked  notion  about  equality,  it  rather  prevents 
it.  But  to  turn  to  my  wife.  One  Sunday  afternoon 
when  she  was  at  the  worst,  as  I  was  coming  out  of 
church,  for  I  went  one  part  of  the  day,  and  my  eldest 
daughter  the  other,  so  my  poor  wife  was  never  left 
alone  ;  as  1  was  coming  out  of  church,  I  say,  Mr. 
Jenkins,  the  minister,  called  out  to  me  and  asked  me 
how  my  wife  did,  saying  he  had  been  kept  from  coming 
to  see  her  by  the  deep  fall  of  snow,  and  indeed  from 
the  parsonage-house  to  my  hovel,  it  was  quite  im- 
passable. I  gave  him  all  the  particulars  he  asked, 
and,  I  am  afraid,  a  good  many  more,  for  my  heart 
was  quite  full.  He  kindly  gave  me  a  shilling,  and 
said  he  would  certainly  try  to  pick  out  his  way  and 
come  and  see  her  in  a  day  or  two. 


!8  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

"  While  be  was  talking  to  me  a  plain  farmei--look 
ing  gentleman  in  boots,  who  stood  by,  listened  to  all  1 
said,  but  seemed  to  take  no  notice.  It  was  Mr.  Jen- 
Kins*  wife's  father,  who  was  come  to  pass  the  Christ- 
mas holj^days  at  the  parsonage-house.  I  had  always 
jeard  him  spoken  of  as  a  plain  frugal  man,  who  lived 
'.lose  himself,  but  was  remarked  to  give  away  more 
han  any  of  his  show-away  neighbors. 

"  Well !  I  went  home  with  great  spirits  at  this 
reasonable  and  unexpected  supply  ;  for  we  had  tap- 
ped our  last  sixpence,  and  there  was  little  work  to  be 
had  on  account  of  the  weather.  I  told  my  wife  I 
had  not  come  back  empty-handed. — '  No,  I  dare  say 
aot,'  says  she,  you  have  been  serving  a  Master,  icho 
jilletJi  the  hungry  with  good  things,  though  he  sendeth 
'he  rich  empty  away.''  Tnie ;  Maiy,  says  I,  we  sel- 
dom fail  to  get  good  spiritual  food  from  Mr.  Jenkins, 
but  to-day  he  has  kindly  supplied  our  bodily  wants. 
She  was  more  thankful  when  I  showed  her  the  shil- 
ling, than,  I  dare  say,  some  of  your  great  people  are 
when  they  get  a  hundred  pounds." 

Mr.  Johnson's  heart  smote  him  when  he  heard 
such  a  value  set  upon  a  shilling ;  "  surely,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "I  will  never  waste  another;"  but  he  said 
nothing  to  the  shepherd,  who  thus  pursued  his  story. 

"Next  morning  before  I  went  out,  I  sent  part  of 
the  money  to  buy  a  little  ale  and  brown  sugar  to  put 
into  her  water-gruel,  which  made  it  nice  and  nourish- 
ing. I  went  out  to  cleave  wood  in  a  faiin-yard,  for 
there  was  no  standing  out  on  the  plain,  after  such 
enow  as  had  fallen  in  the  night.  I  went  with  a  lighter 
heart  than  usual,  because  I  had  left  my  poor  wife  a 
little  better,  and  comfortably  supplied  for  this  day, 
and  I  now  resolved  more  than  ever  to  trust  God  for 
the  supplies  of  the  next.  When  I  came  back  at 
night,  my  wife  fell  a  crying  as  soon  as  she  saw  me. 
This,  I  own,  I  thought  but  a  bad  return  for  the  bless- 
ings she  had  so  lately  received,  and  so  I  told  her.  'Oh,' 
said  she,  '  it  is  too  much,  we  are  too  rich ;  I  am  now 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  19 

f'nglitened,  not  lest  we  should  hare  no  portjon  m  this 
world,  but  for  fear  we  should  have  our  whole  portion 
in  it.  Look  here,  .John!'  So  saying,  she  uncovered 
the  bed  whereon  she  lay,  and  showed  me  two  warm, 
thick,  new  blankets.  1  could  not  believe  my  own 
eyes,  sir,  because  when  I  went  out  in  the  morning,  I 
had  left  her  with  no  other  covering  than  our  little  old, 
thin,  blue  rug.  I  was  still  more  amazed  when  she 
put  half  a  crown  into  my  hand,  telling  me  she  had 
had  a  visit  from  Mr.  Jenkins  and  Mr.  Jones,  the  latter 
of  whom  had  bestowed  all  these  good  things  upon  us. 
Thus,  sir,  have  our  lives  been  crowned  with  mercies. 
My  wife  got  about  again,  and  I  do  believe,  under 
Pi'ovidence,  it  was  owing  to  these  comforts;  for  the 
rheumatism,  sir,  without  blankets  by  night,  and  flan- 
nel by  day,  is  but  a  baddish  job,  especially  to  people 
who  have  little  or  no  fire.  She  will  always  be  a 
weakly  body;  but,  thank  God,  her  soul  prospers  and 
is  in  health.  But  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  talking 
on  at  this  rate,"  "  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  Mr. 
Johnson ;  "  I  am  much  pleased  with  your  story,  you 
shall  certainly  see  me  iji  a  few  days.  Good  night." 
So  saying,  lie  slipped  a  crown  into  his  hand  and  rode 
off.  "Surely,"  said  the  shepherd,  '■'■goodness  and 
mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life,''''  as  he 
gave  the  money  to  his  wife  when  he  got  home  at 
night. 

As  to  Mr.  Johnson,  he  found  abundant  matter  for 
his  thoughts  during  the  rest  of  his  journey.  On  the 
whole,  he  was  more  disposed  to  envy  than  to  pity  the 
shepherd.  "  I  have  seldom  seen,"  said  he,  "  so  happy 
a  man.  It  is  a  sort  of  liappiness  which  the  world 
could  not  give,  and  which  I  plainly  see,  it  has  not 
been  able  to  take  away.  This  must  be  the  true  spirit 
of  religion.  I  sec  more  and  more,  that  true  goodness 
is  not  merely  a  thing  of  words  and  opinions,  but  a 
living  principle  brought  into  every  common  action  of 
a  man's  life.  What  else  could  have  supported  this 
poor  couple  under  every  bitter  trial  of  want  and  sick* 


20  DOMESTIC    TALES    A>D    Al,LEGOKIES, 

nes3  ?  No,  my  honest  shepherd,  I  do  not  pity,  but  1 
respect  and  even  honor  thee ;  and  I  will  visit  tny  poor 
hovel  on  my  return  to  Salisburj-,  with  as  much  pleas- 
ure as  I  am  now  going  to  the  house  of  my  friend." 

3Ir.  Johnson,  after  having  passed  some  time  with 
his  friend,  set  out  on  his  return  to  Salisbury,  and  on 
the  Saturday  evening  reached  a  very  small  inn,  a  mile 
or  two  distant  from  the  shepherd's  village;  for  he 
never  travelled  on  a  Sunday  without  such  a  reason  as 
he  might  be  able  to  produce  at  the  day  of  judgment. 
He  went  the  next  morning  to  the  church  nearest  the 
house  where  he  had  passed  the  night ;  and  after 
taking  such  refreshment  as  he  could  get  at  that  house, 
he  walked  on  to  find  out  the  shepherd's  cottage. 
His  reason  for  visiting  him  on  a  Sunday  was  chiefly 
because  he  supposed  it  to  be  the  only  day  which 
the  shepherd's  employment  allowed  him  to  pass  at 
home  with  his  family ;  and  as  Mr.  Johnson  had  been 
struck  with  his  talk,  he  thought  it  Avould  be  neither 
unpleasant  nor  unprofitable  to  obsei-ve  how  a  man  who 
carried  such  an  appearance  of  piety  spent  his  Sunday : 
for  though  he  was  so  low  in  the  world,  this  gentleman 
was  not  above  entering  very  closely  into  his  character, 
of  which  he  thought  he  should  be  able  to  form  a  bet- 
ter judgment,  by  seeing  whether  his  practice  at  home 
kept  pace  with  his  professions  abroad  :  for  it  is  not  so 
much  by  observing  how  people  talk,  as  how  they  live, 
that  we  ought  to  judge  of  their  characters. 

After  a  pleasant  walk,  Mr.  Johnson  got  within  sight 
of  the  cottage,  to  which  he  was  directed  by  the  clump 
of  hawthorns  and  the  broken  chimney.  He  wished 
to  take  the  family  by  surprise :  and  walking  gently  up 
to  the  house,  he  stood  awhile  to  listen.  The  door 
being  half  open,  he  saw  the  shepherd  (who  looked  so 
respectable  in  his  Sunday  coat  that  he  should  hardly 
have  known  him),  his  wife,  and  their  numerous  young 
family,  drawing  round  their  little  table,  which  was 
covered  with  a  clean,  though  very  coarse  cloth. 
There  stood  ou  it  a  large  dish  of  potatoes,  a  brown 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  ^1 

pitcher,  and  a  piece  of  a  coarse  loaf.  The  wife  and 
children  stood  in  silent  attention,  while  the  shepherd, 
with  uplifted  hands  and  eyes,  devoutly  begged  the 
blessing  of  Heaven  on  their  homely  fare.  Mr.  John- 
ton  could  not  help  sighing  to  reflect,  that  he  had 
■lOmetimes  seen  better  dinners  eaten  with  less  appear- 
ince  of  thankfulness. 

The  shepherd  and  his  wife  sat  down  with  great 
seeming  cheerfulness,  but  the  children  stood;  and 
while  the  mother  was  helping  them,  httle  fresh-oolored 
Molly,  who  had  picked  the  wool  from  the  bushes  with 
so  much  delight,  cried  out,  "Father,  1  wish  I  was 
big  enough  to  say  grace,  I  'im  sure  I  should  say  it 
very  heartily  to-day,  for  I  was  thinking  what  must 
poor  people  do  who  have  no  salt  to  their  potatoes ; 
and  do  but  look,  our  dish  is  quite  full." — "  That  is  the 
true  way  of  thinking,  Molly,"  said  the  father;  "in 
whatever  concerns  bodily  wants  and  bodily  comforts, 
it  is  our  duty  to  compare  our  own  lot  with  the  lot  of 
those  who  are  worse  oft",  and  that  will  keep  us  thank- 
ful :  on  the  other  hand,  wheneverwe  are  tempted  to  set 
up  oiu'  own  wisdom  or  goodness,  we  must  compare 
ourselves  with  those  who  are  wiser  and  better,  and 
that  will  keep  us  humble."  Molly  was  now  so  hun- 
gry, and  found  the  potatoes  so  good,  that  she  had  no 
time  to  make  any  more  remarks,  but  was  devouring 
tier  dinner  very  heartily,  when  the  barking  of  the 
great  dog  drew  her  attention  from  her  trencher  to  the 
door,  and  spying  the  stranger,  she  cried  out,  "  Look, 
father,  see  here,  if  yonder  is  not  the  good  gentle- 
man!"  Mr.  .Johnson  finding  himself  discovered,  im- 
mediately walked  in,  and  was  heartily  welcomed  by 
the  honest  shepherd,  who  told  his  wife  that  this  was 
.he  gentleman  to  whom  they  were  so  much  obliged. 

The  good  woman  began,  as  some  very  neat  people 
are  rather  apt  to  do,  with  making  many  apologies  that 
her  house  was  not  cleaner,  and  that  things  were  not 
m  a  fitter  order  to  receive  such  a  gentleman.  Mr. 
Johnson,  however,  on  looking  round,  could  discover 


*22  DOMESTIC    TALES    A>"D    ALLEGORIES 

uothin^  but  the  most  perfect  neatness.  The  tre-nchers 
on  which  they  were  eating,  were  almost  as  white  as 
their  hnen ;  and  notwithstanding  the  number  and 
smailness  of  the  children,  there  was  not  the  least  ap- 
pearance of  dirt  or  litter.  The  furniture  was  very 
simple  and  poor,  hardly  indeed  amounting  to  bare  ne- 
cessaries, it  consisted  of  four  brown  wooden  chairs, 
which,  by  constant  rubbing,  were  become  as  bright 
as  a  looking-glass  :  an  iron  pot  and  kettle ;  a  poor  old 
grate,  which  scarcely  held  a  handful  of  coal,  and  out 
of  which  the  little  fire  that  had  been  in  it  appeared  to 
have  been  taken,  as  soon  as  it  had  answered  the  end 
for  which  it  had  been  lighted — that  of  boiling  their 
potatoes.  Over  the  chimney  stood  an  old-fashioned, 
broad,  bright  candlestick,  and  a  still  brighter  spit :  it 
was  pretty  clear  that  this  last  was  kept  rather  for 
ornament  than  use.  An  old  caiTed  elbow  chair,  and 
a  chest  of  the'same  date,  which  stood  in  the  comer, 
were  considered  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  shep- 
herd's goods,  having  been  in  his  family  for  three  gen- 
erations. But  all  these  were  lightly  esteemed  by  him 
in  comparison  of  another  possession,  which,  added  to 
the  above,  made  up  the  whole  of  what  he  had  in- 
herited from  his  father,  and  which  last  he  would  not 
have  parted  with,  if  no  other  could  have  been  had,  foi 
the  king's  ransom  ;  this  was  a  large  old  Bible,  which 
lay  on  the  window-seat,  neatly  covered  with  brown 
cloth,  variously  patched.  This  sacred  book  was  most 
reverently  preserved  from  dog's  ears,  dirt,  and  eveiy 
other  injury,  but  such  as  time  and  much  use  had 
made  it  suffer  in  spite  of  care.  On  the  clean  white 
walls  was  pasted,  a  hymn  on  the  Crucifixion  of  our 
Savior,  a  print  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  Shepherd's 
Hymn,  a  jS'ew  History  of  a  True  Book,  and  Patient 
Joe,  or  the  Newcastle  Collier. 

After  the  first  salutations  were  over,  Mr.  Johnson 
said,  that  if  they  would  go  on  with  their  dinner  he 
would  sit  down.  Though  a  good  deal  ashamed,  they 
thought  it  more  respectful  to  obey  the  gentlemaa. 


THE    SHEPHERD    OP    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  ^J 

who  having  cast  his  eye  on  their  slender  provisions, 
gently  rebuked  the  shepherd  for  not  having  indulged 
himself,  as  it  was  Sunday,  with  a  morsel  of  bacon  to 
relish  his  potatoes.  The  shepherd  said  nothing,  but 
poor  Mary  coloi'ed  and  hung  down  her  head,  saying, 
"  Indeed,  sir,  it  is  not  my  fault,  I  did  beg  my  husban(i 
to  allow  himself  a  bit  of  meat  to-day  out  of  your 
honor's  bounty;  but  he  was  too  good  to  do  it,  and  it 
is  all  for  my  sake."  The  shepherd  seemed  unwilling 
to  coine  to  an  explanation,  but  Mr.  Johnson  desired 
Mary  to  go  on.  So  she  continued :  "  You  must 
know,  sir,  that  both  of  us,  next  to  a  sin,  dread  a  debt, 
and  indeed,  in  some  cases  a  debt  is  a  sin;  but  with  ai! 
our  care  and  pains,  we  have  never  been  able  quite  to 
pay  off  the  doctor's  bill  for  that  bad  fit  of  rheumatism 
which  I  had  last  winter.  Now,  when  you .  were 
pleased  to  give  my  husband  that  kind  present  the 
other  day,  I  heartily  desired  him  to  buy  a  bit  of  meat 
for  Sunday,  as  I  said  before,  that  he  might  have  a 
little  refreshment  for  himself  out  of  your  kindness. 
But,'  answered  he,  '  Mary,  it  is  never  out  of  my 
mind  long  together  that  we  still  owe  a  few  shillings 
to  the  doctor,  and,  thank  God,  it  is  all  we  did  owe  in 
the  world.  Now,  if  I  carry  him  this  money  directly, 
it  will  not  only  show  him  our  honesty  and  our  good- 
will, but  it  will  be  an  encouragement  to  him  to  come 
to  you  another  time,  in  case  you  should  be  taken 
once  more  in  such  a  bad  fit;  for  I  must  own,'  added 
my  poor  husband,  'that  the  thought  of  your  being  so 
terribly  ill  without  any  help,  is  the  only  misfortune 
that  I  want  courage  to  face.' " 

Hero  the  grateful  woman's  tears  ran  down  so  fast 
that  she  could  not  go  on.  She  wiped  them  with  the 
corner  of  her  apron,  and  huiiil)ly  begged  pardon  for 
making  so  free.  "  Indeed,  sir,"  said  the  shepherd, 
"  tbough  luy  wife  is  full  as  unwilling  to  be  in  tlebt  as 
myself,  yet  I  could  hardly  prevail  on  her  to  consent 
to  my  paying  this  money  just  then,  because  she  said 
U  was  liard  that  I  should  not  have  a  taste  of  the  gen- 


24  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES 

tleman's  bounty  myself.  But  for  once,  sir,  I  would 
have  my  own  way.  For  you  must  know,  as  I  pass  tlie 
best  part  of  my  time  alone,  tending  my  sheep,  'tis  a 
great  point  with  me,  sir,  to  get  comfortable  matter  foi 
my  own  thoughts  ;  so  that  'tis  rather  self-interest  in 
me  to  allow  myself  in  no  pleasures  and  no  practices 
that  won't  bear  thinking  on  over  and  over.  For  when 
one  is  a  good  deal  alone,  you  know,  sir,  all  one's  bad 
deeds  do  so  rush  in  upon  one,  as  I  may  say,  and  so 
torment  one,  that  there  is  no  tnie  comfort  to  be  had 
but  ia  keeping  clear  of  wrong  doings  and  false  pleas- 
ures ;  and  that  I  suppose  may  be  one  reason  why  so 
many  folks  hate  to  stay  a  bit  by  themselves.  But,  as 
I  was  saying,  when  I  came  to  thmk  the  matter  over 
on  the  hill  yonder,  said  I  to  myself.  '  A  good  dinner  is 
a  good  thing,  I  grant,  and  yet  it  will  be  but  cold  com- 
fort to  me  a  week  after,  to  be  able  to  say — to  be  sure, 
I  had  a  nice  shoulder  of  mutton  last  Sunday  for  din- 
ner, thanks  to  the  good  gentleman !  but  then  I  am  in 
debt.  I  had  a  rare  dinner,  that's  certain;  but  the 
pleasure  of  that  has  long  been  over,  and  the  debt  still 
remains.  I  have  spent  the  crown  ;  and  now  if  my 
poor  wife  should  be  taken  in  one  of  those  fits  again, 
die  she  must,  unless  God  work  a  miracle  to  prevent 
it,  for  I  can  get  no  help  for  her.'  This  thought  set- 
tled all ;  and  I  set  oft'  and  paid  the  doctor  with  as 
much  cheerfulness  as  I  should  have  felt  on  sitting 
down  to  the  fattest  shoulder  of  mutton  that  ever  was 
roasted.  And  if  I  was  contented  at  the  time,  think 
how  much  more  happy  I  have  been  at  the  remem- 
brance !  O  sir,  there  are  no  pleasures  worth  the  name, 
but  such  as  bring  no  plague  or  penitence  after  them." 
Mr.  Johnson  was  satisfied  with  the  shepherd's  rea- 
sons, and  agreed  that  though  a  good  dinner  was  not 
to  be  despised,  yet  it  was  not  worthy  to  be  compared 
with  a  contented  ?nind,  which  (as  the  Bible  ti-uly  says) 
is  a  continual  feast.  "  But  come,"  said  the  good  gen- 
tleman, "  what  have  we  got  in  this  brown  mug  ?" 
'  As  good  water,"  said  the  shepherd,  "  as  any  in  tha 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  25 

king's  dominions.  I  have  heard  of  countries  beyond 
sea,  in  which  there  is  no  wholesome  water;  nay,  I 
ha*e  been  myself  in  a  great  town  not  far  off,  where 
they  are  obliged  to  buy  all  the  water  which  they  get, 
while  a  good  Providence  sends  to  my  very  door  a 
spring  as  clear  and  fine  as  Jacoh's  well.  When  I  am 
terapted  to  repine  that  I  have  often  no  other  drink,  I 
call  to  mind  that  it  was  nothing  better  than  a  cup  of 
cold  water  which  the  woman  at  the  well  of  Sychar 
drew  for  the  greatest  guest  that  ever  visitecf  this 
world." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Johnson  ;  "  but  as  your 
honesty  has  made  yoii  prefer  a  poor  meal  to  being  in 
debt,  I  will  at  least  send  and  get  something  for  you  to 
drink.  I  saw  a  little  public  house  just  by  the  church, 
as  I  came  along.  Let  that  little  rosy-faced  fellow 
fetch  a  mug  of  beer."  So  saying,  he  looked  full  at 
the  boy,  who  did  not  offer  to  stir,  but  cast  an  eye  at 
his  father  to  know  what  he  was  to  do.  "  Sir,"  said 
the  shepherd,  "  I  hope  we  shall  not  appear  imgrateful 
if  we  seem  to  refuse  your  favor ;  my  little  body 
would,  I  am  sure,  fly  to  serve  you  on  any  other  oc- 
casion. But,  good  sir,  it  is  Sunday,  and  should  any 
of  my  family  be  seen  at  a  public  house  on  a  Sabbath 
day,  it  would  be  a  much  greater  grief  to  me  than  to 
drink  water  all  my  life.  1  am  often  talking  against 
these  doings  to  others  ;  and  if  I  should  say  one 
thing  and  do  another,  you  can't  think  what  an  ad- 
vantage it  would  give  many  of  my  neighbors  over 
me,  who  would  be  glad  enough  to  report  tlKut  they 
had  caught  the  shepherd's  son  at  the  alehouse,  with- 
out explaining  how  it  happened.  Christians,  you 
know,  sir,  must  be  doubly  watchful,  or  they  will 
not  only  bring  disgrace  on  themselves,  but  what  is 
much  worse,  on  that  holy  name  by  which  they  are 
called." 

"  Are  you  not  a  little  too  cautious,  my  honest 
friend?"  said  Mr.  Johnson.  "I  humbly  ask  your 
nardon,  sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  '» if  1  think  that 


26  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

is  impossible.  In  my  poor  notion  I  no  more  under- 
stand how  a  man  can  be  too  cautious,  than  how  he 
can  be  too  strong  or  too  healthy." 

"  You  are  right,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  as  a 
general  principle,  but  this  struck  me  as  a  very  small 
thing."  "  Sir,"  said  the  shepherd,  "  I  am  afraid  you 
will  think  me  very  bold,  but  you  encourage  me  to 
speak  out."  "  'Tis  what  I  wish,"  said  the  gentleman. 
"  Then,  sir,"  resumed  the  shepherd,  "  1  doubt  if, 
where  there  is  a  frequent  temptation  to  do  wrong, 
any  fault  can  be  called  small ;  that  is,  in  short,  if 
there  is  any  such  thing  as  a  small  wilful  sin.  A  poor 
man  like  me  is  seldom  called  out  to  do  great  things, 
so  that  it  is  not  by  a  few  striking  deeds  his  character 
can  be  judged  by  his  neighbors,  but  by  the  little 
round  of  daily  customs  he  allows  himself  in." 

"  I  should  like,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  to  know  how 
you  manage  in  this  respect." 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  scholar,  sir,"  replied  the  shep- 
herd, "  but  I  have  made  myself  a  little  sort  of  rule. 
I  always  avoid,  as  I  am  an  ignorant  man,  picking  out ' 
any  one  single  difficult  text  to  distress  my  mind 
about,  or  to  go  and  build  opinions  upon,  because  I 
knov/  that  puzzles  and  injures  poor  unlearned  Chris- 
tians. But  I  endeavor  to  collect  what  is  the  general 
spirit  or  meaning  of  Scripture  on  any  particular 
subject,  by  putting  a  few  texts  together,  which, 
though  I  find  them  dispersed  up  and  down,  yet  alj 
seem  to  look  the  same  way,  to  prove  the  same  truth, 
or  hold  out  the  same  comfort.  So  when  I  am  tried 
or  tempted,  or  any  thing  happens  in  which  I  am  at 
a  loss  what  to  do,  I  apply  to  my  rule — to  the  law 
and  the  testimony.  To  be  sure  1  3an't  always  find  a 
particular  direction  as  to  the  very  case,  because  then 
the  Bible  must  have  been  bigger  than  all  those  great 
books  I  once  saw  in  the  library  at  Salisbury  palace, 
which  the  butler  told  me  were  acts  of  parliament ; 
and  had  that  been  the  case,  a  poor  man  would  never 
have  had  money  to  buy,  nor  a  working  man  time  to 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIN.  27 

read  the  Bible ;  and  so  Christianity  could  only  have 
been  a  religion  for  the  rich,  for  those  who  had  money 
and  leisure,  which,  blessed  be  God !  is  so  far  from 
being  the  truth,  that  in  all  that  fine  discourse  of  our 
Savior  to  John's  disciples,  it  is  enough  to  reconcile 
any  poor  man  in  the  world  to  his  low  condition,  to 
observe,  when  Christ  reckons  up  the  things  for 
which  he  came  on  eartli,  to  observe,  I  say,  what  he 
keeps  for  last.  Go  tell  John,  says  he,  those  things 
which  ye  do  hear  and  see;  the  Mind  receive  their  sight, 
and  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the 
deaf  hear,  and  the  dead  are  raised  up.  Now  sir,  all 
these  are  wonders,  to  be  sure,  but  they  are  nothing 
to  what  follows.  They  are  but  like  the  lower  rounds 
of  a  ladder,  as  1  may  say,  by  whi«h  you  mount  to 
the  top — and  the  poor  have  the  gospel  preached  to 
Ihem.  I  dare  say  if  John  had  any  doubts  before,  this 
part  of  the  message  must  have  cleared  them  up  at 
once.  For  it  must  have  made  him  certain  sure  at 
once,  that  a  religion  which  placed  preaching  salva- 
tion to  the  poor  above  healing  the  sick,  which  rank- 
ed the  soul  above  the  body,  and  set  heaven  above 
health,  must  have  come  from  God." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  you  say  you  can  gen- 
erally pick  out  your  particular  duty  from  the  Bible, 
though  that  immediate  duty  be  not  fully  explained." 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "  I  thmk  I 
can  find  out  the  principle,  at  least,  if  I  bring  but  a 
willing  mind.  The  want  of  that  is  the  great  hin- 
derance.  Whoso  doelh  my  tcill,  he  shall  hnoio  of  the 
doctrine.  You  know  that  text,  sir.  I  believe  a  stub- 
born will  makes  the  Bible  liarder  to  be  understood 
than  any  want  of  learning.  'Tis  corrupt  aflections 
which  blind  the  understanding,  sir.  The  more  a 
man  hates  sin,  the  clearer  he  will  see  his  way,  and 
the  more  he  loves  holiness,  the  better  he  will  under- 
stand his  Bible — the  more  practical  conviction  will  he 
get  of  that  pleasant  truth,  that  the  secret  of  the  Lord 
is  with  them  that  fear  him.     Now,  sir,  suppose  I  hatl 


26  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

time  and  learning,  and  possessed  of  all  the  books  1 
saw  at  the  bishop's,  where  could  I  find  out  a  surer 
way  to  lay  the  axe  to  the  root  of  all  covetousness, 
selfishness,  and  injustice,  than  the  plain  and  ready 
rule,  lo  do  unto  all  men  as  I  would  they  should  do  unto 
me.  If  my  neighbor  does  me  an  injury-,  can  I  be  at 
any  loss  how  to  proceed  with  him,  when  I  recollect 
the  parable  of  the  unforgiving  steward,  who  refused 
to  pardon  a  debt  of  a  hundred  pence,  when  his  own 
ten  thousand  talents  had  been  remitted  to  him  ?  I 
defy  any  man  to  retain  habitual  selfishness,  hardness 
of  heart,  or  any  other  allowed  sin,  who  daily  and  con- 
scientiously tries  his  own  heart  by  this  touchstone. 
The  straight  rule  will  show  the  crooked  practice  to 
every  one  who  honestly  tries  the  one  by  the  other." 

"  Why,  you  seem  to  make  Scripture  a  thing  ol 
general  application,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  in  cases  in 
which  many,  I  fear,  do  not  apply." 

"It  applies  to  everything,  sir,"  replied  the  shep- 
herd. "When  those  men  who  are  now  disturbing 
the  peace  of  the  world,  and  trying  to  destroy  the  con- 
fidence of  God's  children  in  their  Maker  and  their 
Savior — when  those  men,  I  say,  came  to  my  poor 
hovel  with  their  new  doctrines  and  their  new  books,  I 
would  never  look  into  one  of  them  ;  for  I  remember 
it  was  the  first  sin  of  the  first  pair  to  lose  their  inno- 
cence for  the  sake  of  a  little  wicked  knowledge;  be- 
sides, my  oivn  book  told  me — To  fear  God  and  honor 
the  king — To  meddle  not  with  them  who  are  given  to 
change — Not  to  speak  evil  of  dignities — To  render 
honor  to  whom  honor  is  due.  So  that  I  was  furnished 
with  a  little  coat-of-mail,  as  I  may  say,  which  pre- 
served me,  while  those  who  had  no  such  armor  fell 
into  the  snare." 

While  they  were  thus  talking,  the  children,  who 
had  stood  very  quietly  behind,  and  had  not  stirred  a 
foot,  now  began  to  scamper  about  all  at  once,  and  in 
a  moment  ran  to  the  window-seat  to  pick  up  their 
little  old  hata.     Mr.  Johnson  looked  surprised  at  thi' 


THE    SHKPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    PLAIJf.  29 

distuibance  ;  the  shepherd  asked  his  pardon,  telling 
him  it  was  the  souna  of  the  chttrch  bell  which  had 
been  the  cause  of  their  rudeness ;  for  their  mother 
had  brought  them  up  with  such  a  fear  of  being  too 
late  for  church,  that  it  was  but  who  could  catch  the 
first  stroke  of  the  bell,  and  be  first  ready.  He  had 
always  taught  them  to  think  that  nothing  was  more 
indecent  than  to  get  into  church  after  it  was  begun ; 
for  as  the  service  opened  with  an  exhortation  to  re- 
pentance, and  a  confession  of  sin,  it  looked  very  pre- 
sumptuous not  to  be  ready  to  join  it ;  it  looked  as  if 
people  did  not  feel  themselves  to  be  sinners.  And 
though  such  as  lived  at  a  great  distance  might  plead 
dilierence  of  clocks  as  an  excuse,  yet  those  who 
lived  within  the  sound  of  the  bell  could  pretend  nei- 
ther ignorance  nor  mistake. 

Mary  and  her  children  set  forward.  Mr.  Johnson 
and  the  shepherd  followed,  taking  care  to  talk  the 
Avhole  way  on  such  subjects  as  might  fit  them  for  the 
solemn  duties  of  the  place  to  which  they  were  going. 
"I  have  often  been  sorry  to  observe,"  said  Mr.  John- 
son, "that  many  who  are  reckoned  decent,  good  kind 
of  people,  and  who  would  on  no  account  neglect 
going  to  church,  yet  seem  to  care  but  little  in  what 
frame  or  temper  of  mind  they  go  thither.  They  will 
talk  of  their  worldly  concerns  till  they  get  within  the 
door,  and  then  take  them  up  again  the  veiy  minute 
the  sermon  is  over,  which  makes  me  ready  to  fear 
they  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  mere  form  of  going 
to  a  place  of  worship.  Now,  for  my  part,  I  always 
find  that  it  requires  a  little  tijne  to  bring  my  mind 
into  a  state  fit  to  do  any  common  business  well,  much 
more  this  great  and  most  necessary  business  of  all." 
"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "  and  then  1  think, 
loo,  how  busy  I  should  be  in  preparing  my  mind,  if 
I  were  going  into  the  presence  of  a  great  gentleman, 
or  a  lord,  or  the  king;  and  shall  the  King  of  kings  be 
treated  with  less  respect  ?  Besides,  one  likes  to  see 
people   feel   as  if  going  to   church   was  a  thing   of 


30  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

choice  and  pleasure,  as  well  as  a  duty,  and  that  thej^ 
were  as  desirous  not  to  be  the  last  there,  as  they 
would  be  if  they  were  going  to  a  feast  or  a  fair." 

After  sei-vice,  Mr.  Jenkins,  the  clergyman,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  character  of  Mr.  John- 
son, and  had  a  great  respect  for  him,  accosted  him 
with  much  civility,  expressing  his  concern  that  he 
could  not  enjoy  just  now  so  much  of  his  conversation 
as  he  wished,  as  he  was  obliged  to  visit  a  sick  person 
at  a  distance,  but  hoped  to  have  a  little  talk  with  him 
before  he  left  the  village.  As  they  walked  along  to- 
gether, ]\[r.  Johnson  made  such  inquiries  about  the 
shepherd  as  sejTed  to  confirm  him  in  the  high  opinion 
he  entertained  of  his  piety,  good  sense,  industry,  and 
self-denial.  They  parted — the  clergyman  promising 
to  call  in  at  the  cottage  on  his  way  home. 

The  shepherd,  who  took  it  for  granted  that  Mr. 
Johnson  was  gone  to  the  parsonage,  walked  home 
with  his  wife  and  children,  and  was  beginning  in  his 
usual  way  to  catechise  and  instruct  his  family',  when 
Mr.  Johnson  came  in  and  insisted  that  the  shepherd 
should  go  on  with  his  instructions  just  as  if  he  were 
not  there.  This  gentleman,  who  was  very  desirous 
of  being  useful  to  his  own  servants  and  workmen  in 
the  way  of  religious  instruction,  was  sometimes  soriy 
to  find  that  though  he  took  a  good  deal  of  pains,  they 
now  and  then  did  not  quite  understand  him ;  for  though 
his  meaning  was  veiy  good,  his  language  was  not  al- 
ways very  plain,  and  though  the  things  he  said  were 
not  hard  to  be  understood,  yet  the  words  were,  espe- 
cially to  such  as  were  very  ignorant.  And  he  now 
began  to  find  out  that  if  people  were  ever  so  wise 
and  good,  yet  if  they  had  not  a  simple,  agreeable, 
and  familiar  way  of  expressing  themselves,  some  of 
their  plain  hearers  would  not  be  much  the  better  for 
them.  For  this  reason  he  was  not  above  listening  to 
the  plain,  humble  way  in  Avhich  this  honest  man 
taught  his  family  ;  for  though  he  knew  that  he  him- 
self had  many   advantages   over   the   shepherd,  had 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF   SALISBURY    PLAIN.  31 

more  learning,  and  could  teach  him  many  things,  yet 
he  was  not  too  proud  to  learn  even  of  so  poor  a  man, 
in  any  point  where  he  thought  the  shepherd  might 
have  the  advantage  of  him. 

This  gentleman  was  mttch  pleased  with  the  knowl- 
edge and  piety  which  he  discovered  in  the  answers  of 
the  children ;  and  desired  the  shepherd  to  tell  him 
how  he  contrived  to  keep  up  a  sense  of  divine  things 
in  his  own  mind,  and  in  that  of  his  fani)Iy,  with  so 
little  leisure,  and  so  little  reading.  "  Oh  !  as  to  that, 
sir,"  said  the  shepherd,  "  we  do  not  read  much  ex- 
cept in  one  book,  to  be  sure  ;  but  with  my  heart 
prayer  for  God's  blessing  on  the  use  of  that  book, 
what  little  knowledge  is  needful  seems  to  come  of 
course,  as  it  were.  And  my  chief  study  has  been  to 
bring  the  fruits  of  the  Sunday  reading  into  the  week's 
business,  and  to  keep  up  the  same  sense  of  God  in  the 
heart  when  the  Bible  is  in  the  cupboard,  as  when  it 
is  in  the  hand.  In  short,  to  apply  what  I  read  in  the 
book  to  what  I  meet  with  in  the  field." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Johnson. 
"  Sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "  I  have  but  a  poor  gift  at 
conveying  these  things  to  others,  though  I  have  much 
comfort  from  them  in  my  own  mind;  but  I  am  sure 
that  the  most  ignorant  and  hard-working  people,  who 
are  in  earnest  about  their  salvation,  may  help  to  keep 
up  devout  thoughts  and  good  aOections  during  the 
week,  though  they  have  hardly  any  time  to  look  at  a 
book  ;  and  it  will  help  them  to  keep  out  bad  t>houghtg 
too,  which  is  no  small  matter.  But  then  they  must 
know  the  Bible ;  they  must  have  read  the  word  of 
God  diligently;  that  is  a  kind  of  stock  in  trade  for  a 
Christian  to  set  up  with  ;  and  it  is  this  which  makes 
me  so  careful  in  teaching  it  to  my  children,  and  even 
in  storing  their  memories  with  psalms  and  chapters. 
This  is  a  great  help  to  a  poor,  hard-working  man, 
who  will  scarcely  meet  with  anything  in  them  but 
what  he  may  turn  to  some  good  account.  If  one  lives 
in  the  fear  and  love  of  God,  almost  everything  one 


32  DOM£STlC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

sees  abroad  will  teach  one  to  adore  his  power  and 
goodness,  and  bring  to  mind  some  text  of  Scripture, 
which  shall  fill  his  heart  with  thankfulness,  and  his 
mouth  with  praise.  When  I  look  upward,  the  heavens 
declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  shall  I  be  silent  and  un- 
grateful ?  If  I  look  round  and  see  the  valleys  stand- 
ing thick  with  corn,  how  can  I  help  blessing  that 
Power  who  giveth  mc  all  things  richly  to  enjoy? 
I  may  learn  gratitude  from  the  beasts  of  the  field,  for 
the  ox  Jcnmceth  his  owner  and  the  ass  his  mastefs  crib ; 
and  shall  a  Christian  not  know,  shall  a  Christian  not 
consider  what  great  things  God  has  done  for  him? 
I,  who  am  a  shepherd,  endeavor  to  fill  my  soul  with  a 
constant  remembrance  of  that  good  Shepherd,  who 
feedeth  mc  in  green  pastures,  and  malceth  me  to  lie 
down  beside  the  still  waters,  and  whose  rod  and  staff 
comfort  me.  A  religion,  sir,  which  has  its  seat  in  the 
heart,  and  its  fruits  in  the  life,  takes  up  little  time  in 
the  study  :  and  yet  in  another  sense,  tnie  religion, 
which  from  sound  principles  bringeth  forth  right 
practice,  fills  up  the  whole  time,  and  life  too,  as  one 
may  say. 

"  You  are  happy,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  in  this  re- 
tired life,  by  which  you  escape  the  coiTuptions  of  the 
world."  "  Sir,"  replied  the  shepherd,  "  I  do  not  es- 
cape the  coiTuptions  of  my  own  evil  nature.  Even 
there,  on  that  wild  solitary  hill,  I  find  out  that  my  heart 
is  prone  to  evil  thoughts.  I  suppose,  sir,  that  diflerent 
states  have  different  temptations.  You  great  folks  that 
live  in  the  world,  perhaps,  are  exposed  to  some,  of 
which  such  a  poor  man  as  I  am,  knows  nothing.  But 
to  one  who  leads  a  lonely  life  like  me,  evil  thoughts 
are  a  chief-besetting  sin  ;  and  I  can  no  more  withstand 
these  without  the  grace  of  God,  than  a  rich  gentleman 
can  withstand  the  snares  of  evil  company,  without  the 
same  grace.  And  I  find  that  I  stand  in  need  of  God's 
help  continually;  and  if  he  should  give  me  up  to  my 
own  evil  heart,  I  should  be  lost." 

Mr.  Johnson  approved  of  the  shepherd's  sincerity. 


TlIK    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURY    FLAI.N.  33 

for  he  had  always  observed,  that  where  there  wi  s  no 
humility,  and  no  watchfulness  against  sin,  there  was 
no  religion,  and  he  said  that  the  man  who  did  not  feel 
himself  to  be  a  sinner,  in  his  opinion  could  not  be  a 
Christian. 

Just  as  they  were  in  this  part  of  their  discourse, 
Mr.  Jenkins  the  clergyman  came  in.  After  the  usual 
salutations,  he  said,  "Well,  shepherd,  I  waIi  you 
)oy  ;  I  know  you  will  be  sorry  to  gain  any  advantage 
by  the  death  of  a  neighbor;  but  Old  Wilson,  my  clerk, 
was  so  infirm,  and  I  trust  so  well  prepared,  that  there 
is  no  reason  to  be  sorry  for  his  death.  I  have  been  to 
pray  by  him,  but  he  died  while  I  stayed.  I  have  al- 
ways intended  you  should  succeed  to  his  place ;  'tis 
no  great  matter  of  profit,  but  every  little  is  some- 
thing. 

"  No  great  matter,  sir  !"  cried  the  shepherd ;  "  in- 
deed, it  is  a  great  thing  to  me  ;  it  will  more  than  pay 
my  rent.  Blessed  be  God  for  all  his  goodness !" — 
Mary  said  nothing,  but  lifted  up  her  eyes  full  of  tears 
in  silent  gratitude. 

"  I  am  glad  of  this  little  circumstance,"  said  Mr. 
Jenkins,  "  not  only  for  your  sake,  but  for  the  sake 
of  the  ofiice  itself.  I  so  heartily  reverence  every  re- 
Ugious  institution,  that  I  would  never  have  even  the 
amen  added  to  the  prayers  of  our  church,  by  vain  or 
profane  lips  ;  and  if  it  depended  on  me,  there  should 
be  no  such  thing  in  the  land  as  an  idle,  drunken,  ox 
irreligious  parish  clerk.  Sony  I  am  to  say  that  this 
matter  is  not  always  sufficiently  attended  to,  and  thai 
I  know  some  of  a  very  indifferent  character. 

Mr.  Johnson  now  inquired  of  the  clergyman  whethei 
there  were  many  children  in  the  parish.  "More  than 
you  would  expect,"  replied  he,  "  from  the  seeming 
Bmallness  of  it;  but  there  are  some  little  hamlets 
which  you  do  not  see." — "I  think,"  returned  Mr. 
Johnson,  "  I  recollect  that  in  the  conversation  which 
I  had  with  the  shepherd  on  the  hill  yonder,  he  told 
me  you  had  no  Sunday  school  " — "I  am  sorry  to  say 


34  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

we  have  none,"  said  the  minister.  "  I  do  what  I  can 
to  remedy  this  misfortune  by  public  catechising;  but 
having  two  or  three  churches  to  serve,  I  can  not  give 
so  much  time  as  I  wish  to  private  instruction;  and 
having  a  large  family  of  my  own,  and  no  assistance 
from  o tilers,  I  have  never  been  able  o  establish  a 
school.'' 

"  There  is  an  excellent  institution  in  London,"  said 
Mr.  Johnson,  "  called  the  Sunday-school  Society, 
which  kindly  gives  books  and  other  helps,  on  the  ap- 
plication of  such  pious  clergymen  as  stand  in  need  of 
their  aid,  and  which  I  am  sure  would  have  assisted 
you,  but  I  think  we  shall  be  able  to  do  something 
ourselves.  "  Shepherd,"  continued  he,  "  if  I  were  a 
king,  and  had  it  in  my  power  to  make  you  a  rich  and 
a  great  man,  with  a  word  speaking,  I  would  not  do  it. 
Those  who  are  raised,  by  some  sudden  stroke,  much 
above  the  station  in  which  Divine  Providence  had 
placed  them,  seldom  turn  out  very  good,  or  very 
happy.  I  have  never  had  any  great  things  in  my 
power,  but  as  far  as  I  have  been  able,  I  have  been 
always  glad  to  assist  the  worthy.  I  have,  however, 
never  attempted  or  desired  to  set  any  poor  man  much 
above  his  natural  condition,  but  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me 
to  lend  him  such  assistance  as  may  make  that  con- 
dition more  easy  to  himself,  and  put  him  in  a  way 
which  shall  c^ll  him  to  the  performance  of  more  du- 
ties than  perhaps  he  could  have  performed  without 
my  help,  and  of  performing  them  in  a  better  manner 
to  others,  and  with  more  comfort  to  himself. — What 
rent  do  yo.u  pay  for  this  cottage  ?" 

"  Fifty  shillings  a  year,  sir." 

"  It  is  in  a  sad  tattered  condition  ;  is  there  not  a 
better  to  be  had  in  the  village  ?" 

"  That  in  which  the  poor  clerk  lived,"  said  the 
clergyman,  "  is  not  only  more  tight  and  whole,  but 
has  two  decent  chambers,  and  a  very  large  light 
kitchen." — "  That  will  be  very  convenient,"  replied 
Mr.  Johnson,  "pray,  what  is  the  rent?" — "I  think, 


THE    SHEPHERD    OF    SALISBURT    PLAIN.  35 

saia  the  shepherd,  "  poor  Neighbor  Wilson  gave 
somewhat  about  four  pounds  a  year,  or  it  might  be 
guineas." — "  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "  and 
what  will  the  clerk's  place  be  worth,  think  you  ?" 
"About  three  pounds,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Now,"  continued  Mr.  Johnson,  '  my  plan  is  that 
the  shepherd  should  take  that  house  immediately; 
fur  as  the  poor  man  is  dead,  there  will  be  no  need  of 
waiting  till  quarter-day,  if  I  make  up  the  difference.' 
"  True,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jenkins,  "  and  I  am  sure  my 
wife's  father,  whom  I  expect  to-morrow,  will  willing- 
ly assist  a  little  toward  buying  some  of  the  clerk's  old 
goods.  And  the  sooner  they  remove  the  better ;  for  poor 
Mary  caught  that  bad  rheumatism  by  sleeping  under 
a  leaky  thatch."  The  shepherd  was  too  much  moved 
to  speak,  and  Mary  could  hardly  sob  out,  "  Oh,  sir ; 
you  are  too  good ;  indeed,  this  house  will  do  very 
well."  "  It  may  do  very  well  for  you  and  your  chil- 
dren, Mary,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  gravely,  "  but  it  will 
not  do  for  a  school ;  the  kitchen  is  neither  large  nor 
light  enough.  Shepherd,"  continued  he,  "  with  your 
good  minister's  leave,  and  kind  assistance,  I  propose 
to  set  up  in  this  parish  a  Sunday  school,  and  to  make 
you  the  master.  It  will  not  at  all  interfere  with  your 
weekly  calling,  and  it  is  the  only  lawful  way  in  which 
you  could  turn  the  Sabbath  into  a  day  of  some  little 
profit  to  your  family,  by  doing,  as  I  hope,  a  great  dea^ 
of  good  to  the  souls  of  others.  The  rest  of  the  week 
you  will  work  as  usual.  The  difference  of  rent  be- 
tween this  house  and  the  clerk's  I  shall  pay  myself; 
for  to  put  you  in  a  better  house  at  your  own  expense, 
would  be  no  great  act  of  kindness.  As  for  honest 
Mary,  who  is  not  fit  for  hard  labor,  or  any  other  out- 
of-door  work,  I  propose  to  endow  a  small  weekly 
school,  of  which  she  shall  be  the  mistress,  and  eip 
ploy  her  notable  turn  to  good  account,  by  teaching 
ten  or  a  dozen  girls  to  knit,  sew,  spin,  card,  or  any 
other  useful  way  of  getting  their  bread  ;  for  al   Siis  I 


36  DOMESTIC    TALES   A.ND    ALLEGORIES 

shall  only  pay  her  the  usual  price,  for  I  am  not  going 
to  make  you  rich,  but  usefuL" 

*'  Not  rich,  sir!"  cried  the  shepherd  ;  "  How  can  I 
ever  be  thankful  enough  for  such  blessings  ?  And 
will  my  poor  Mary  have  a  dry  thatch  over  her  head  ? 
and  shall  I  be  able  to  send  for  the  doctor  when  I  am 
like  to  lose  her  ?  Indeed,  my  cup  runs  over  with 
blessings  ;  I  hope  God  will  give  me  humility."  Here 
he  and  3Iaiy  looked  at  each  other  and  burst  into  tears. 
The  gentlemen  saw  their  distress,  and  kindly  walked 
out  upon  the  little  green  before  the  door,  that  these 
honest  people  might  give  vent  to  their  feelings.  As 
soon  as  they  were  alone,  they  crept  into  one  corner 
of  the  room,  where  they  thought  they  could  not  be 
seen,  and  fell  on  their  knees,  devoutly  blessing  and 
praising  God  for  his  mercies.  Never  were  more 
hearty  prayers  presented,  than  this  grateful  couple 
offered  up  for  their  benefactors.  The  warmth  of  their 
gratitude  could  only  be  equalled  by  the  earnestness 
with  which  they  besought  the  blessing  of  God  on  the 
work  in  which  they  were  going  to  engage. 

The  two  gentlemen  new  left  this  happy  family,  and 
walked  to  the  parsonage,  where  the  evening  was 
spent  in  a  manner  very  edifying  to  Mr.  Johnson,  who 
the  next  day  took  all  proper  measures  for  putting  the 
shepherd  in  immediate  possession  of  his  now  comfort 
able  habitation.  Mr.  Jenkins's  father-in-law,  the  wor 
thy  gentleman  who  gave  the  shepherd's  wife  the 
blankets,  arrived  at  the  parsonage  before  Mr.  Johnson 
left  it,  and  assisted  in  fitting  up  the  clerk's  cottage. 

Mr.  Johnson  took  his  leave,  promising  to  call  on 
the  worthy  minister  and  his  new  clerk  once  a  year,  in 
his  summer's  journey  over  the  plain,  as  long  as  it 
should  please  God  to  spare  his  life.  He  had  every 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the  objects  of  his  bounty. 
The  shepherd's  zeal  and  piety  made  him  a  blessing 
to  the  rising  generation.  The  old  resorted  to  his 
school  for  the  benefit  of  hearing  the  young  instructed ; 
and  the  clergyman  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  that  he 


THE   8HKPHERD    OF    SALISBURT    PLAIN.  37 

was  rewarded  for  the  protection  he  gave  the  school, 
by  the  great  increase  in  his  congregation.  The  shep- 
lierd  not  only  exhorted  both  parents  and  children  to 
the  indispensable  duty  of  a  regular  attendance  at 
church,  but  by  his  pious  counsels  he  drew  them 
thither,  and  by  his  plain  and  prudent  instructions  eu- 
abled  them  to  understand,  and  of  course,  to  delight  ia 
tdo  public  worship  of  God. 


38  DOMESTIC    TALES    A.ND   ALLEGORIES. 


II.  HISTORY    OF    MR.    FANTOM, 

THE  NEW-FASHIONED  PHILOSOPHER, 

AND  HIS  ]\1AN  ■WILLIAM. 

Mr.  Fantom  was  a  retail  trader  in  the  city  of  Lon- 
don. As  he  had  no  turn  to  any  expensive  vices,  he 
was  reckoned  a  sober,  decent  man  ;  but  he  was  cov- 
etous and  proud,  selfish  and  conceited.  As  soon  aa 
he  got  for^vard  in  the  world,  his  vanity  began  to  dis- 
play itself,  though  not  in  the  ordinary  method,  that 
of  making  a  figure  and  living  away  ;  but  still  he  was 
tormented  with  a  longing  desire  to  draw  public  no- 
tice, and  to  distinguish  himself.  He  felt  a  general 
sense  of  discontent  at  what  he  was,  with  a  general 
ambition  to  be  something  which  he  was  not ;  but  this 
desire  had  not  yet  turned  itself  to  any  particular  ob- 
ject. It  was  not  by  Jiis  money  he  could  hope  to  be 
distinguished,  for  half  his  acquaintance  had  more,  and 
a  man  must  be  rich,  indeed,  to  be  noted  for  his  riches 
in  London.  Mr.  Fantom's  mind  was  a  prey  to  his 
vain  imaginations.  He  despised  all  those  little  acts 
of  kindness  and  charity  which  every  man  is  called  to 
perform  eveiy  day,  and  while  he  was  contriving  grand 
schemes,  which  lay  quite  out  of  his  reach,  he  neg- 
lected the  ordinary  duties  of  life  which  lay  directly 
before  him.  Selfishness  was  his  governing  principle. 
He  fancied  he  was  lost  in  the  mass  of  general  soci- 
ety, and  the  usual  means  of  attaching  importance  to 
msignificance  occurred  to  him — that  of  getting  into 
slubs  and  societies.     To  be  connected  with  a  party 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    FANTOM.  39 

would  at  least  make  him  known  to  that  party,  be  it 
ever  so  low  and  contemptible  ;  and  this  local  impor- 
tance it  is  which  draws  off  vain  minds  from  those 
scenes  of  general  usefulness,  in  which,  though  they 
are  of  more  value,  they  are  of  less  distinction. 

About  this  time  he  got  hold  of  a  famous  little  book 
written  by  the  New  Philosopher,  whose  pestilent 
ioctrines  have  gone  about  seeking  whom  they  may 
destroy.  These  doctrines  found  a  ready  entrance 
into  Mr.  Fantom's  mind,  a  mind  at  once  shallow  and 
inquisitive,  speculative  and  vain,  ambitious  E.nd  dissat- 
isfied. As  almost  every  book  was  new  to  him,  he 
fell  into  the  common  error  of  those  who  begin  to 
read  late  in  life — that  of  thinking  that  what  he  did 
not  know  himself  was  equally  new  to  others  ;  and 
he  was  apt  to  fancy  that  he  and  the  author  he  was 
reading  were  the  only  two  people  in  the  world  who 
knew  anything.  This  book  led  to  the  grand  discov- 
ery ;  he  had  now  found  what  his  heart  panted  after — 
a  way  to  distinguish  himself.  To  start  out  a  fu^l- 
grown  philosopher  at  once,  to  be  wise  without  edu- 
cation, to  dispute  without  learning,  and  to  make 
proselytes  without  argument,  was  a  short  cut  to 
fame  which  well  suited  his  vanity  and  his  ignorance. 
He  rejoiced  that  he  had  been  so  clever  as  to  examine 
for  himself,  pitied  his  friends  who  took  things  upon 
trust,  and  was  resolved  to  assert  the  freedom  of  his 
own  mind.  To  a  man  fond  of  bold  novelties  and 
daring  paradoxes,  solid  argument  would  be  flat  and 
truth  would  be  dull,  merely  because  it  is  not  new. 
Mr.  Fantom  believed,  not  in  proportion  to  the  strength 
of  the  evidence,  but  to  the  impudence  of  the  asser- 
tion. The  trampling  on  holy  ground  with  dirty 
shoes,  the  smearing  the  sanctuary  with  filth  and 
mire,  the  calling  the  prophets  and  apostles  by  the 
most  scurrilous  names  was  new,  and  dashing,  and 
dazzling.  Mr.  Fantom,  now  being  set  free  from  the 
chains  of  slavery  and  superstition,  was  resolved  to 
ehow  his  zeal  in  the   usual  way   by  trying  to  fieo 


40  DOMESTIC    T.ALES    AXD    ALLE&ORIES. 

Others ;  but  it  -Wiuld  have  hurt  his  vanity  had  lie 
known  that  he  was  the  convert  of  a  man  who  had 
written  only  for  the  vulgar,  who  had  invented  nothing, 
no,  not  even  one  idea  of  original  wickedness,  but 
who  had  stooped  to  take  up  out  of  the  kennel  of  in 
fidelity  all  the  loathsome  dregs  and  offal  dirt  which 
politer  unbelievers  had  thrown  away  as  too  gross  and 
offensive  for  the  better  bred  readers. 

Mr.  Fantom,  who  considered  that  a  philosopher 
must  set  up  with  a  little  sort  of  stock  in  trade,  now 
picked  up  all  the  commonplace  notions  against  Chris- 
tianity, which  have  been  answered  a  hundred  times 
over  ;  these  he  kept  by  him  ready  cut  and  dried,  and 
brought  out  in  all  companies  with  a  zeal  which  would 
have  done  honor  to  a  better  cause,  but  which  the 
friends  to  a  better  cause  are  not  so  apt  to  discover. 
He  soon  got  all  the  cant  of  the  new  school.  He 
prated  about  narrowness,  and  ignorance,  and  bigotry, 
Tindi  prejudice,  and  priestcraft,  on  the  one  hand,  and  on 
tlie  other,  of  public  good,  the  love  of  mankind,  and 
liberality,  and  candor,  and  toleration,  and  above  all, 
benevolence.  Benevolence,  he  said,  made  up  the 
whole  of  religion,  and  all  the  other  parts  of  it  were 
nothing  but  cant,  and  jargon,  and  hypocrisy.  By 
benevolence  he  understood  a  gloomy  and  indefinite 
anxiety  about  the  happiness  of  people  with  whom  he 
was  utterly  disconnected,  and  whom  Providence  had 
put  it  out  of  his  reach  either  to  serve  or  injure.  And 
by  the  happiness  this  benevolence  was  so  anxious  to 
promote,  he  meant  an  exemption  from  the  power  of 
the  laws,  and  an  emancipation  from  the  restraints  of 
religion,  conscience,  and  moral  obligation. 

Finding,  however,  that  he  made  little  impression 
on  his  old  club  at  the  Cat  and  Bagpipes,  he  grew 
tired  of  their  company.  This  club  consisted  of  a 
few  sober  citizens,  who  met  of  an  evening  for  a  little 
harmless  recreation  after  business ;  their  object  was, 
not  to  reform  parliament,  but  their  own  shops  ;  not 
to  correct  the  abuses  of  government  but  of  parish 


HISTORY    OF    MF..    FANTOM.  41 

officers ;  not  to  cure  the  excesses  of  administration 
but  of  their  own  porters  and  apprentices;  to  talk 
over  the  news  of  the  day  without  aspiring  to  direct 
the  events  of  it.  They  read  the  papers  with  that 
anxiety  which  every  honest  man  feels  in  the  daily- 
history  of  his  countiy.  But  as  trade  which  they  did 
understand,  flourished,  they  were  careful  ruot  to  rep- 
robate those  public  measures  by  which  it  was  protect- 
ed, and  which  they  did  not  understand.  In  such  tur- 
bulent times  it  was  a  comfort  to  each  to  feel  he  was 
a  tradesman  and  not  a  statesman,  that  he  was  not 
called  to  responsibility  for  a  trust  for  which  he  found 
he  had  no  talents,  while  he  was  at  full  liberty  to  em- 
ploy the  talents  he  really  possessed  in  fairly  amassing 
a  fortune,  of  which  the  laws  would  be  the  best  guard- 
ian, and  government  the  best  security.  Thus  a  le- 
gitimate self-love,  regulated  by  prudence  and  restrain- 
ed by  principle,  produced  peaceable  subjects  and  good 
citizens,  while  in  Fantom  a  boundless  selfishness  and 
inordinate  vanity  converted  a  discontented  trader  into 
a  turbulent  politician. 

There  was,  however,  one  member  of  the  Cat  and 
Bagpipes  whose  society  he  could  not  resolve  to  give 
ap,  though  tliey  seldom  agreed,  as  indeed  no  two 
men  in  the  same  class  and  habits  of  life  could  less  re- 
semble each  other.  Mr.  Trueman  was  an  honest, 
plain,  simple-hearted  tradesman  of  the  good  old  cut, 
who  feared  God  and  followed  his  business  ;  he  went 
to  church  twice  on  Sundays,  and  mindeill  his  shop  all 
the  week,  spent  frugally,  gave  liberally,  and  saved 
moderately.  He  lost,  however,  some  ground  in  Mr. 
Fantom's  esteem  because  he  paid  his  taxes  without 
disputing,  and  read  his  Bible  without  doubting. 

Mr.  Fantom  now  began  to  be  tired  of  everything 
in  trade  except  the  profits  of  it,  for  the  more  the 
word  benevolence  was  in  his  mouth  the  more  did  sel- 
fishness gain  dominion  in  his  heart.  He,  however, 
resolved  to  retire  for  a  while  into  the  country,  and 
devote  his  time  to  his  new  plans,  schemes,  theories, 


<2  DOMESTIC    TALES    A^JD    ALLEGORIES. 

and  projects  for  the  public  good.  A  life  of  talking, 
and  reading,  and  writing,  and  disputing,  and  teaching, 
and  proselyting,  now  struck  him  as  the  only  life,  so 
he  soon  set  out  for  the  country  with  his  family,  for 
unhappily  Mr.  Fantom  had  been  the  husband  of  a 
very  worthy  woman  many  years  before  the  new  phi- 
losophy had  discovered  that  marriage  was  a  shameful 
infringement  on  human  liberty,  and  an  abridgement 
of  the  rights  of  man.  To  this  family  was  now  added 
his  new  footman,  William  Wilson,  whom  he  had 
taken  with  a  good  character  out  of  a  sober  family. 
Mr.  Fantom  was  no  sooner  settled  than  he  wrote  to 
invite  Mr.  Tixieman  to  come  and  pay  him  a  visit,  for 
he  would  have  burst  if  he  could  not  have  got  some 
one  to  whom  he  might  display  his  new  knowledge* 
he  knew  that  if  on  the  one  hand  Trueman  was  no 
scholar,  yet  on  the  other  he  was  no  fool ;  and  though 
he  despised  his  2^rejudices,  yet  he  thought  he  might 
be  made  a  good  decoy  duck,  for  if  he  could  once 
bring  Trueman  over,  the  whole  club  at  the  Cat  and 
Bagpipes  might  be  brought  to  follow  his  example^ 
and  thus  he  might  see  himself  at  the  head  of  a  so- 
ciety ot  his  own  proselytes — the  supreme  object  of  a 
philosopher's  ambition.  Trueman  came  accordingly. 
He  soon  found  that  however  he  might  be  shocked  at 
the  impious  doctrines  his  friend  maintained,  yet  that 
an  important  lesson  might  be  learned  even  from  the 
worst  enemies  of  tnith,  namely,  an  ever-wakeful  at- 
tention to  their  grand  object.  If  they  set  out  with 
talking  of  trade  or  politics,  of  private  news  or  public 
affairs,  still  Mr.  Fantom  was  ever  on  the  watch  to 
hitch  in  his  darling  doctrines  ;  whatever  he  began 
with  he  was  sure  to  end  with  a  pert  squib  at  the  Bi- 
ble, a  vapid  jest  on  the  clergy,  the  miseries  of  super 
stition,  and  the  blessings  of  philosophy.  "  Oh,"  said 
Trueman  to  himself,  "when  shall  I  see  Christians 
half  so  much  in  earnest?  Why  is  it  tha";  almost  all 
seal  is  on  the  wrong  side  ?" 

»'  Well.  Mr    Fantom,"  said  Trueman,  one  day  8- 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    FANTOM.  43 

breakfast,  "I  am  afraid  you  are  leading  but  an  idle 
sort  of  life  here."  "  Idle,  sir !"  said  Fantom,  "  J  now 
first  begin  to  live  to  some  purpose;  I  have  indeed  lost 
too  much  time,  and  wasted  my  talents  on  a  little  re- 
tail trade  in  which  one  is  of  no  note ;  one  can't  distin- 
guish one's  self."  "  So  much  the  better,"  said  True- 
man,  "  I  had  rather  not  distinguish  myself,  unless  it 
was  by  leading  a  better  life  than  my  neighbors. 
There  is  nothing  I  should  dread  more  than  being 
talked  about.  I  dare  say  now  heaven  is  in  a  good 
measure  filled  with  people  whose  names  were  never 
heard  of  out  of  their  own  street  and  village.  So  I  beg 
leave  not  to  distinguish  myself!"  "Yes,  but  one 
may,  if  it  is  only  by  signing  one's  name  to  an  essay 
or  paragraph  in  a  newspaper,"  said  Fantom.  "  Heav- 
en keep  John  Trueman's  name  out  of  a  newspaper," 
interrupted  he  in  a  fright,  "  for  if  it  be  there  it  must 
either  be  found  in  the  Old  Bailey  or  the  bankrupt 
list,  unless,  indeed,  I  were  to  remove  shop,  or  sell  oft 
my  old  stock.  Well,  but  Mr.  Fantom,  you,  I  sup- 
pose, are  now  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long  ?"  "  O 
yes,"  replied  Fantom,  with  a  gloomy  sigh,  which 
gave  the  lie  to  his  words,  "perfectly  happy  !  I  won- 
der you  do  not  give  up  all  your  sordid  employments, 
and  turn  philosopher!"  "Sordid,  indeed!"  said  True- 
man;  "  do  not  call  names,  Mr.  Fantom,  1  shall  never 
be  ashamed  of  my  trade.  What  is  it  has  made  this 
country  so  great  ?  a  country  whose  merchants  are 
princes  ?  It  is  trade,  Mr.  Fantom,  trade.  I  can  not 
say  indeed,  as  well  as  I  love  business,  but  now  and 
then,  when  I  am  overworked,  I  wish  I  had  a  little 
more  time  to  look  after  my  soul ;  but  the  fear  that  I 
should  not  devote  the  time,  if  I  had  it,  to  the  best 
purpose,  makes  me  work  on,  though  often,  when  I 
am  balancing  my  accounts,  I  tremble  lest  I  should 
neglect  to  balance  the  grand  account.  But  still,  since, 
like  you,  I  am  a  man  of  no  education,  I  am  more 
afraid  of  the  temjjtations  of  leisure  than  of  those  of 
business ;    I   never  wa.s   bred   to  read    more  than   a 


44  DOMESTIC    TALES    AXD    ALLEGORIES. 

chapter  in  the  Bible,  or  some  other  good  book,  or  the 
magazine  and  newspaper,  and  all  that  I  can  do  now, 
after  shop  is  shut,  is  to  take  a  walk  with  my  children 
in  the  field  besides.  But  if  I  had  nothing  to  do  from 
morning  to  night,  I  might  be  in  danger  of  turning 
politician  or  philosopher.  No,  neighbor  Fantom,  de- 
pend upon  it  that  where  there  is  no  learning,  next  to 
God's  grace,  the  best  preservative  of  human  virtue  is 
business.  As  to  our  political  societies,  like  the  armies 
in  the  cave  of  Adullam,  'every  man  that  is  in  dis- 
tress, and  every  man  that  is  in  debt,  and  every  man 
that  is  discontented,  will  always  join  themselves  unto 
them.' " 

Fantom.  You  have  narrow  views,  TiTieman. 
What  can  be  more  delightful  than  to  see  a  paper  of 
one's  own  in  print  against  tjTanny  and  superstition, 
contrived  with  so  much  ingenuity,  that,  though  the 
law  is  on  the  lookout  for  treason  and  blasphemy,  a 
little  change  of  name  defeats  its  scrutiny.  For  in- 
stance, you  may  stigmatize  England  under  the  name 
of  Rome,  and  Christianity  under  that  of  Popery.  The 
true  way  is  to  attack  whatever  you  have  a  mind  to  in- 
jure under  another  name,  and  the  best  means  to  de- 
stroy the  use  of  a  thing,  is  to  produce  a  few  incontro- 
vei-tible  facts  against  the  abuses  of  it.  Our  late  trav- 
ellers have  inconceivably  helped  on  the  cause  of  the 
new  philosophy  in  their  ludicrous  narratives  of  cre- 
dulity, miracles,  indulgences,  and  processions,  in  po- 
pish countries,  all  which  they  ridicule  under  the 
broad  and  general  name  of  religion,  Christianity,  and 
the  church.  "And  are  not  you  ashamed  to  defend 
such  knavery?"  said  Mr.  Trueman.  "Those  who 
have  a  great  object  to  accomplish,"  replied  Mr.  Fan- 
tom, "  must  not  be  nice  about  the  means.  But  to  re- 
turn to  yourself,  Trueman  ;  in  your  little  confined 
situation  you  can  be  of  no  use."  "  That  I  deny," 
interrupted  Trueman  ;  "  I  have  filled  all  the  parish 
offices  with  some  credit ,  I  never  took  a  bribe  at  ah 
election,  n"i,  not  so  much  as  a  treat ;  I  take  care  of  my 


RISTORi-    OF    MR.    FANTOSI.  45 

apprentices,  and  do  not  set  them  a  bad  example  by 
••unning  to  plays  and  Sadler's  Wells  in  the  week,  or 
jaunting  about  in  a  gig  all  day  on  Sundays ;  for  I 
look  Tipon  it  that  the  country  jaunt  of  the  master  on 
Sunday  exposes  his  servants  to  more  danger  than 
their  whole  week's  temptation  in  trade  put  together." 

Fantom.  I  once  had  the  same  vulgar  prejudices 
about  the  church  and  the  Sabbath,  and  all  that  anti- 
quated stuff.  But  even  on  your  own  narrow  prin- 
ciples, how  can  a  thinking  being  spend  his  Sunday 
better  (if  he  must  lose  one  day  in  seven  by  having 
any  Sunday  at  all)  than  by  going  into  the  country  to 
admire  the  works  of  nature. 

Trueman.  I  suppose  you  mean  the  works  of  God 
for  I  never  read  in  the  Bible  that  Nature  made  any- 
thing. I  should'  rather  think  that  she  herself  was 
made  by  Him,  who,  when  he  said,  "  Thou  shalt  not 
murder,"  said  also,  *'  Thou  shalt  keep  holy  the  sab- 
bath-day." But  now  do  you  really  think  that  all 
that  multitude  of  coaches,  chariots,  chaises,  vis-a-vis, 
booby-hutchcs,  sulkies,  sociables,  phaetons,  gigs,  cur- 
ricles, cabrioles,  chairs,  stages,  pleasure-carts,  and 
horses,  which  crowd  our  roads — all  those  country- 
houses  within  reach,  to  which  the  London  friends 
pour  in  to  the  gorgeous  Sunday  feast,  which  the  ser- 
vants are  kept  from  church  to  dress — all  those  public 
houses  imder  the  signs  of  which  you  read  these  al- 
luring words,  an  ordinary  on  Sundays ;  I  say,  do  you 
teally  believe  that  all  those  houses  and  carriages  are 
crammed  with  philosophers,  who  go  on  Sunday  into 
the  country  to  admire  the  works  of  nature,  as  you 
call  it !  Indeed,  from  the  reeling  gait  of  some  of 
them  when  they  go  back  at  night,  one  might  take 
them  for  a  certain  sect  called  the  tippling  philoso- 
phers. Then  in  answer  to  your  charge,  that  a  little 
tradesman  can  do  no  good,  it  is  not  true;  I  must  tell 
you  that  I  belong  to  the  Sick  Man's  Friend,  and  to 
the  Society  for  relieving  Prisoners  for  Small  Debts. 

Fantom.     I  have  no  attention  to  spare  to  that  busi 


«6  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLBGORIES. 

ness,  though  I  would  pledge  myself  to  produce  a  plan 
by  which  the  national  debt  might  be  paid  off  in  six 
months ;  but  all  yours  are  petty  occupations. 

Trueman.  Then  they  are  better  suited  to  petty 
men  of  petty  fortune.  I  had  rather  have  an  ounce  ol 
real  good  done  with  my  own  hands,  and  seen  with  my 
own  eyes,  than  speculate  about  doing  a  ton  in  a  wild 
way,  which  I  know  can  never  be  brought  about. 

Fantom.  I  despise  a  narrow  field.  O  for  the  reign 
of  universal  benevolence  !  I  want  to  make  all  man- 
kind good  and  happy. 

Trueman.  Dear  me !  sure  that  must  be  a  wholo- 
sale  sort  of  a  job ;  had  you  not  better  try  your  hand 
at  a  town  or  a  parish  first ! 

Fantom.  Sir,  I  have  a  plan  in  my  head  for  reliev- 
ing the  miseries  of  the  whole  world.  Everything 
is  bad  as  it  now  stands.  I  would  alter  all  the  laws, 
and  do  away  all  the  religions,  and  put  an  end  to  all 
the  wars  in  the  world.  I  would  everywhere  redress 
the  injustice  of  fortune,  or  what  the  vulgar  call  Prov- 
idence. I  would  put  an  end  to  all  punishments;  I 
would  not  leave  a  single  prisoner  on  the  face  of  the 
globe.  This  is  what  I  call  doing  things  on  a  grand 
scale.  "  A  scale  with  a  vengeance,"  said  Trueman. 
"  As  to  releasing  the  prisoners,  however,  I  do  not  so 
much  like  that,  as  it  would  be  liberating  a  few  rogues 
at  the  expense  of  all  honest  men ;  but  as  to  the  rest 
of  your  plans,  if  all  Christian  countries  woiild  be  so 
good  as  to  turn  Christians,  it  might  be  helped  on  a 
good  deal.  There  Avould  be  still  misery  enough  left 
indeed  ;  because  God  intended  this  world  should  be 
earth  and  not  heaven.  But,  sir,  among  all  your  obla- 
tions, you  must  abolish  human  corruption  before  you 
can  make  the  world  quite  as  perfect  as  you  pretend. 
You  philosophers  seem  to  me  to  be  ignorant  of  the 
very  first  seed  and  principle  of  misery — sin,  sir,  sin  ; 
your  system  of  reform  is  radically  defective ;  for  it 
does  not  comprehend  that  sinful  nature  from  which 
all  miseiy  proceeds.     You  accuse  government  of  de- 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    FAN  TOM.  47 

fects  which  belong  to  man,  to  individual  man,  and  o{ 
course  to  man  collectively.  Among  all  your  reforms 
you  must  reform  the  human  heart ;  you  are  only 
hacking  at  the  branches  without  striking  at  the  root. 
Banishing  impiety  out  of  the  world  would  be  like 
striking  off  all  the  pounds  from  an  overcharged  bill ; 
and  all  the  troubles  whicK  would  be  left  would  be  re- 
duced to  mere  shillings,  pence,  and  farthings,  as  one 
may  say." 

Fantxim.  Your  project  would  rivet  ihe  chains 
which  mine  is  designed  to  break. 

Trueman.  Sir,  I  have  no  projects.  Projects  are  in 
general  the  offspring  of  restlessness,  vanity,  and  idle- 
ness. I  am  too  busy  for  projects,  too  contented  for 
theories,  and,  I  hope,  have  too  much  honesty  and 
humility  for  a  philosopher.  The  utmost  extent  of 
my  ambition  at  present  is  to  redress  the  wrongs  of  a 
parish  apprentice  who  has  been  cruelly  used  by  his 
master :  Indeed-,  I  have  another  little  scheme,  which 
is  to  prosecute  a  fellow  in  our  street  who  has  suffered 
a  poor  wretch  in  a  workhouse,  of  which  he  had  the 
care,  to  perish  through  neglect,  and  you  must  assist 
me. 

Fantom.  The  parish  must  do  that.  You  must  not 
apply  to  me  for  the  redress  of  such  petty  grievances. 
I  own  that  the  wrongs  of  the  Poles  and  South  Amer- 
icans so  fill  my  mind  as  to  leave  me  no  time  to  attend 
to  the  petty  sorrows  of  workhouses  and  parish  ap- 
^ircntices.  It  is  provinces,  empires,  continents,  that 
the  benevolence  of  the  philosopher  embraces  ;  every 
one  can  do  a  little  paltry  good  to  his  next  neighbor. 

Trueman.  Every  one  can,  but  I  do  not  see  that 
every  one  does.  If  they  would,  indeed,  your  busi- 
ness would  be  ready  done  at  your  hands,  and  your 
grand  ocean  of  benevolence  would  be  filled  with  the 
drops  which  private  charity  would  throw  into  it.  I 
am  glad,  however,  you  are  such  a  friend  to  the  pris- 
oners, because  I  am  just  now  getting  a  little  subscrip- 
tion from  our  club,  to  set  free  our  poor  old  friend  Tom 


48  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND   ALLEGORIES. 

Saunders,  a  very  honest  brother  tradesman,  who  g6 
first  into  debt,  and  then  into  jail,  through  no  fault  of 
his  own,  but  merely  through  the  pressure  of  the 
times.  We  have  each  of  us  allowed  a  trifle  every 
week  toward  maintaining  Tom's  young  family  since 
he  has  been  in  prison ;  but  we  think  we  shall  do  much 
more  service  to  Saunders,  and  indeed  in  the  end  light- 
en our  own  expense,  by  paying  down  at  once  a  little 
sum  to  restore  him  to  the  comforts  of  life,  and  put 
him  in  a  way  of  maintaining  his  family  again.  We 
have  made  up  the  money  all  except  five  guineas.  I 
am  already  promised  four,  and  you  have  nothing  to 
do  but  give  me  the  fifth.  And  so,  for  a  single  guinea, 
without  any  of  the  trouble,  the  meetings,  and  the 
looking  into  his  afi'airs,  which  we  have  had — which, 
let  me  tell  you,  is  the  best,  and  to  a  man  of  business, 
the  dearest  part  of  charity — you  will  at  once  have  the 
pleasure  (and  it  is  no  small  one)  of  helping  to  save  a 
worthy  family  from  stai-ving,  of  redeeming  an  old  friend 
from  jail,  and  of  putting  a  little  of  your  boasted  be- 
nevolence into  action.  Realize  !  Master  Fantom  : 
there  is  nothing  like  realizing.  "  Why,  hark  ye,  Mr. 
Trueman,"  said  Fantom,  stammering,  and  looking 
very  black,  "  do  not  think  I  value  a  guinea :  no,  sir, 
I  despise  money ;  it  is  trash  ;  it  is  dirt,  and  beneath 
the  regard  of  a  wise  man.  It  is  one  of  the  unfeeling 
inventions  of  artificial  society.  Sir,  I  could  talk  to 
you  for  half  a  day  on  the  abuse  of  riches,  and  on  my 
own  contempt  of  money." 

Trueman.  O  pray  do  not  give  yourself  the  trouble; 
it  will  be  an  easier  way  by  half  of  vindicating  your- 
self from  one,  and  of  proving  the  other,  just  to  put 
your  hand  in  your  pocket  and  give  me  a  guinea,  with- 
out saying  a  word  about  it ;  and  then  to  you  w  ho 
value  time  so  much,  and  money  so  little,  it  will  cut 
the  matter  short.  But  come  now  (for  I  see  you  will 
give  nothing),  I  should  be  mighty  glad  to  know  what 
is  the  sort  of  good  you  do  yourselves,  since  you  al- 
ways object  to  what  is  done  by  others.     "Sir,"  said 


IlISTORT    OP    MR     FANTOM.  49 

Mr.  Fantotn,  "  the  object  of  a  tnie  philosophei  is  to 
diffuse  light  and  knowledge.  I  wisl  to  see  the  whole 
world  enlightened." 

Trueman.  Amen  !  if  you  mean  with  the  light  of 
the  gospel.  But  if  you  mean  that  one  religion  is  as 
good  as  another,  and  that  no  rehgion  is  best  of  all ; 
iind  that  we  shall  become  wiser  and  better  by  setting 
rtside  the  very  means  which  Providence  bestowed  to 
make  us  wise  and  good  :  in  short,  if  you  want  to 
make  the  whole  world  philosophers,  why  they  had 
better  stay  as  they  are.  But  as  to  the  true  light,  I 
wish  it  to  reach  the  very  lowest,  and  I  therefore  bless 
God  for  charity-schools,  as  instruments  of  diffusing 
it  among  the  poor. 

Fantom,  who  had  no  reason  to  expect  that  his 
friend  was  going  to  call  upon  him  for  a  subscription 
on  this  account,  ventured  to  praise  them,  saying  :  "  I 
am  no  enemy  to  these  institutions.  I  would  indeed 
change  the  object  of  instruction,  but  I  would  have 
the  whole  Avorld  instructed." 

Here  Mrs.  Fantom,  who,  with  her  daughter,  had 
quietly  sat  by  at  their  work,  ventured  to  put  in  a 
word,  a  liberty  she  seldom  took  with  her  husband ; 
who  in  his  zeal  to  make  the  whole  world  free  and 
happy,  was  too  prudent  to  include  his  wife  among 
the  objects  on  whom  he  wished  to  confer  freedom 
and  happiness.  "  Then,  my  dear,"  said  she,  "  I 
wonder  you  do  not  let  your  own  servants  be  taught  a 
little.  The  maids  can  scarcely  tell  a  letter,  or  say 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  you  know  you  will  not  allow 
them  time  to  learn.  William,  too,  has  never  been  at 
church  since  we  came  out  of  town.  He  was  at  first 
very  orderly  and  obedient,  but  now  he  is  seldom  so- 
ber of  an  evening;  and  in  the  morning  when  he 
•hould  be  rubbing  the  tables  in  felie  parlor,  he  is  gen- 
erally lolling  upon  them,  and  reading  your  little  man- 
ual of  the  new  philosophy." — "  Mrs.  Fantom,"  said 
herhust)and,  angrily,  "you  know  that  my  labors  foi 
the  public  good  leave  me  little  time  to  think  of  mv 


50  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

own  family.  1  must  have  a  great  field,  I  like  to  de 
good  to  hundreds  at  once." 

"I  am  very  glad  of  that  papa,"  said  Miss  Polly; 
"  for  then  I  hope  you  will  not  refuse  to  subscribe  to 
all  those  pretty  children  at  the  Sunday-school,  as  you 
did  yesterday,  when  the  gentleman  came  a  begging, 
because  that  is  the  very  thing  you  were  wishing  for ; 
there  are  two  or  three  hundred  to  be  done  good  at 
once." 

Trueman.  Well,  Mr.  Fantom,  you  are  a  wonder- 
ful man  to  keep  up  such  a  stock  of  benevolence  at  so 
small  an  expense.  To  love  mankind  so  dearly,  and 
yet  avoid  all  opportunities  of  doing  them  good  ;  to 
have  such  a  noble  zeal  for  the  millions,  and  to  feel  so 
little  compassion  for  the  units ;  to  long  to  free  empires 
and  enlighten  kingdoms ;  and  yet  deny  instruction  to 
your  own  village,  and  comfort  to  your  own  family. 
Surely  none  but  a  philosopher  could  indulge  so  much 
philanthropy,  and  so  much  frugality  at  the  same  time. 
But  come,  do  assist  me  in  a  petition  I  am  making  in 
our  poorhouse  ;  between  the  old,  whom  I  want  to 
have  better  fed,  and  the  young,  whom  I  want  to  have 
more  worked. 

Fantom.  Sir,  my  mind  is  so  engrossed  with  the 
partition  of  Poland,  that  I  can  not  bring  it  down  to 
an  object  of  such  insignificance.  I  despise  the  man 
whose  benevolence  is  swallowed  up  in  the  narrow 
concerns  of  his  own  family,  or  parish,  or  country. 

Trueman.  Well,  now  I  have  a  notion  that  it  is  as 
well  to  do  one's  own  duty,  as  the  duty  of  another 
man  ;  and  that  to  do  good  at  home,  is  as  well  as  to 
do  good  abroad.  For  my  part,  I  had  as  live  help 
Tom  Saunders  to  freedom  as  a  Pole  or  a  South 
American,  though  I  should  be  very  glad  to  help  their 
too.  But  one  must  begin  to  love  somewhere,  and  to 
do  good  somewhere ;  and  I  think  it  is  as  natural  to 
love  one's  own  family,  and  to  do  good  in  one's  own 
neighborhood,  as  to  anybody  else.  And  if  everj^  man 
in  eveiy  family,   parish,  and  county,  did   the  same, 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    FANTOJJ.  61 

why  then  all  the  schemes  would  meet,  and  the  end 
of  one  parish,  where  I  was  doing  good,  would  be  the 
beginning  of  another  parish  where  somebody  else 
was  doing  good  ;  so  my  schemes  would  jut  into  my 
neighbor's ;  his  projects  would  unite  with  those  of 
some  other  local  reformer ;  and  all  would  fit  with  a 
sort  of  dove-tail  exactness.  And  what  is  better,  all 
would  join  in  furnishing  a  living  comment  on  that 
practical  precept :  "  Thou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy 
God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 

Fantoin.  Sir,  a  man  of  large  views  will  be  on  the 
watch  for  great  occasions  to  prove  his  benevolence. 

Trueman.  Yes,  sir;  but  if  they  are  so  distant  that 
he  can  not  reach  them,  or  so  vast  that  he  can  not 
gr-isp  them,  he  may  let  a  thousand  little,  snug,  kind, 
f  od  actions,  slip  through  his  fingers  in  the  mean- 
ivhile  :  and  so  between  the  great  things,  that  he  can 
not  do,  and  the  little  ones  that  he  will  not  do,  life 
passes  and  nothing  will  be  done. 

Just  at  this  moment  Miss  Polly  Fantom  (whose 
mother  had  gone  out  some  time  before)  started  up, 
let  fall  her  work,  and  cried  out,  "  O  papa,  do  but  look 
what  a  monstrous  great  fire  there  is  yonder  on  the 
common  !  If  it  were  the  fifth  of  November,  I  should 
think  it  were  a  bonfire.  Look  how  it  blazes!" — "  1 
see  plain  enough  what  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Fantom,  sitting 
down  again  without  the  least  emotion.  "It  is  Jen- 
kins's cottage  on  fire." — "  What,  poor  John  Jenkins, 
who  works  in  our  garden,  papa?"  said  tlie  poor  girl, 
in  great  terror.  "  Do  not  be  frightened,  child,"  an- 
swered Fantom,  "  we  are  safe  enough  ;  the  wind  blows 
the  other  way.  Why  did  you  disturb  us  for  such  a 
trifle,  as  it  was  so  distant?  Come,  Mr.  Trueman. 
sit  down." — "  Sit  down,"  said  Mr.  Trueman,  "  I  am 
not  a  stock,  sir,  nor  a  stone,  but  a  man;  made  of 
the  same  common  nature  with  Jenkins,  whose  house 
is  burning.  Come  along — let  us  (ly  and  help  him," 
continued  he,  running  to  the  door  in  such  haste  thai 
be  forgot  to  take  his  hat,  though  it  hung  just  before 


50  DOMESTIC     TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

him — "  Come  j\Ir.  Faatom — come,  my  little  dear — 1 
wish  your  mamma  was  here — I  am  sorry  she  went 
out  just  now — we  may  all  do  some  good  ;  everybody 
may  be  of  some  use  at  a  fire.  Even  you,  Miss  Polly, 
may  save  soine  of  these  poor  people's  things  in  your 
apron,  while  your  papa  and  I  hand  the  buckets."  All 
Alls  he  said  as  he  run  along  with  the  young  lady  in 
his  hand;  not  doubting  but  Fantom  and  his  whole 
family  were  following  close  behind  him.  Btit  the 
present  distress  was  neither  grand  enough  nor  far 
enough  from  home  to  satisfy  the  wide-stretched  be- 
nevolence of  the  philosopher,  who  sat  down  within 
sight  of  the  flames  to  work  at  a  new  pamphlet,  which 
now  swallowed  up  his  whole  soul,  on  universal  be- 
nevolence. 

His  daughter,  indeed,  who  happily  was  not  yet  a 
philosopher,  with  Mr.  Trueman,  followed  by  the 
maids,  reached  the  scene  of  distress.  AVilliam  Wil- 
son, the  footman,  refused  to  assist,  glad  of  such  an 
opportunity  of  being  revenged  on  Jenkins,  whom  he 
called  a  surly  fellow,  for  presuming  to  complain,  be- 
cause William  always  purloined  the  best  fruit  for  him- 
self before  he  set  it  on  his  master's  table.  Jenkins 
also,  whose  duty  it  was  to  be  out  of  doors,  had  re- 
fused to  leave  his  own  work  in  the  garden,  to  do 
Will's  work  in  the  house  while  he  got  drunk,  or  read 
the  Rights  of  Man. 

The  little  dwelling  of  Jenkins  burnt  very  furiously. 
Mr.  Trueman's  exertions  were  of  the  greatest  ser- 
vice. He  directed  the  willing,  and  gave  an  example 
to  the  slothful.  By  living  in  London,  he  had  been 
more  used  to  the  calamity  of  fire  than  the  country 
people,  and  knew  better  what  was  to  be  done.  Ic  the 
midst  of  the  bustle  he  saw  one  woman  only  who 
never  attempted  to  be  of  the  least  use.  She  ran  back- 
ward and  forward,  wringing  lier  hands,  and  ciying 
out  in  a  tone  of  piercing  agony,  "  Oh,  my  child!  my 
little  Tommy  !  will  no  one  save  my  Tommy  ?" — Any 
wonKin  might  have  uttered  the  same  words,  but  the 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    KANTOM.  63 

look  which  explained  them  could  only  come  from  a 
mother.  Trueman  did  not  stay  to  ask  if  she  were 
owner  of  the  house,  and  mother  of  the  child.  It 
was  his  way  to  do  all  the  good  which  could  be  done 
first,  and  then  to  ask  questions.  All  he  said  was, 
"  Tell  me  which  is  the  room?"  The  poor  woman, 
now  speechless  through  terror,  could  only  point  up 
to  a  little  window  in  the  thatch,  and  then  sunk  on  the 
ground. 

Mr.  Trueman  made  his  way  through  a  thick  smoke, 
and  ran  up  the  narrow  staircase  which  the  fire  had 
not  reached.  He  got  safely  to  the  lofr,  snatched  up 
the  little  creature,  who  was  sweetly  sleeping  in  its 
poor  hammock,  and  brought  him  down  naked  in  his 
arms ;  and  as  he  gave  him  to  the  half-distracted 
mother,  he  felt  that  her  joy  and  gratitude  would  have 
been  no  bad  pay  for  the  danger  he  had  run,  even  if  no 
higher  motive  had  set  him  to  work.  Poor  Jenkins, 
half  stupified  by  his  misfortune,  had  never  thought  of 
his  child;  and  his  wife,  who  expected  every  hour  to 
make  him  father  to  a  second,  had  not  been  able  to  do 
anything  toward  saving  little  Tommy. 

Mr.  Trueman  now  put  the  child  into  Miss  Fantom's 
apron,  saying,  "Did  I  not  tell  you,  my  dear,  that 
everybody  could  be  of  use  at  a  fire  ?"  He  then  de- 
sired her  to  carry  the  child  home,  and  ordered  the 
poor  woman  to  follow  her,  saying,  he  would  return 
himself  as  soon  as  he  had  seen  all  safe  in  the  cottage. 

When  the  fire  was  quite  out,  and  Mr.  Trueman 
could  be  of  no  further  use,  he  went  back  to  Mr.  Fan- 
tom's. The  instant  he  opened  the  parlor  door,  he 
eagerly  cried  out,  "  Where  is  the  poor  woman,  Mr. 
Fantom  ?" — "  Not  in  my  house,  I  assure  you,"  an- 
swered the  philosopher.  "  Give  me  leave  to  tell  you, 
it  was  a  very  romantic  thing  to  send  her  and  her  child 
to  me :  you  should  have  provided  for  them  at  once, 
like  a  prudent  man." — "  f  thought  I  had  done  so," 
replied  Trueman,  "  by  sending  them  to  the  nearest 
and  best  house  in   the  parish,  as  the  poor  woman 


54  DOMESTIC    1  4LE^    A^D    ALLtGORIES. 

seemed  to  stand  in  need  of  immediate  assistance." 
"  So  iBimediate,"  said  Fantom,  "  that  I  would  not  let 
fter  come  into  my  house,  for  fear  of  what  might  hap- 
pen. So  I  packed  her  off,  with  her  child  in  her  arms, 
to  the  worlThouse,  with  orders  to  the  overseers  not  to 
let  her  want  for  anything." 

"  And  what  right  have  you,  Mr.  Fantom,"  cried 
Trueman  in  a  high  tone,  "to  expect  that  the  overseers 
will  be  more  humane  than  yotxrself  ?  But  is  it  possi- 
ble you  can  have  sent  that  helpless  creature,  not  only 
to  walk,  but  to  cany  a  naked  child  at  such  a  time  of 
night,  to  a  place  so  distant,  so  ill  provided,  and  in  such 
a  condition  ?  I  hope  at  least  you  have  furnished  them 
with  clothes,  for  all  their  own  little  stores  were  burnt." 
"  Not  I,  indeed,"  said  Fantom.  "  What  is  the  use 
of  parish  officers,  but  to  look  after  these  petty  things  V 

It  was  3Ir.  Trueman's  way,  when  he  began  to  feel 
very  angiy,  not  to  allow  himself  to  speak ;  "  because," 
he  used  to  say,  "  if  I  give  vent  to  my  feelings,  I  am 
sure,  by  some  hasty  word,  to  cut  myself  out  work  for 
repentance."  So  without  making  any  answer,  or 
even  changing  his  clothes,  which  were  veiy  wet  and 
dirty  from  having  worked  so  hard  at  the  fire,  he 
walked  out  again,  having  first  inquired  the  road  the 
woman  had  taken.  At  the  door  he  met  Mrs.  Fantom 
returning  from  her  visit.  He  told  her  his  tale,  which 
she  had  no  sooner  heard,  than  she  resolved  to  accom- 
pany him  in  search  of  Jenkins's  wife.  She  had  a 
wide  common  to  walk  over  before  she  could  reach 
either  the  workhouse  or  the  nearest  cottage.  She  had 
crawled  along  with  her  baby  as  far  as  she  was  able ; 
but  havio'g  met  with  no  refreshment  at  ^[r.  Fantom's, 
and  her  strength  quite  failing  her,  she  had  sunk  down 
on  the  middle  of  the  common.  Happily,  Mr.  True- 
man  and  Mrs.  Fantom  came  up  at  this  veiy  time- 
The  former  had  had  the  precaution  to  bring  a  cordial, 
and  the  latter  had  gone  back  and  stuffed  her  pockets 
with  old  baby-linen.  Mr.  Trueman  soon  procured 
the  assistance  of  a  lab'.irer,  who  happened  to  pass  by. 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    FANTOM.  55 

to  help  him  to  carry  the  mother,  and  Mrs.  Fantom 
carried  the  little  shivering  baby. 

As  soon  as  they  were  safely  lodged,  Mr.  Trueman 
set  off  in  search  of  poor  Jenkins,  who  was  distressed 
to  know  what  was  become  of  his  wife  and  child  ;  for 
having  heard  that  they  were  seen  going  toward  Mr. 
Fantom's,  he  despaired  of  any  assistance  from  that 
quarter.  Mr.  Trueman  felt  no  small  satisfaction  in 
uniting  this  poor  man  to  his  little  family.  There  was 
something  veiy  moving  in  this  meeting,  and  in  the 
pious  gratitude  they  expressed  for  their  deliverance. 
They  seemed  to  forget  they  had  lost  their  all,  in 
the  joy  they  felt  that  they  had  not  lost  each  other. 
And  some  disdainful  great  ones  might  have  smiled  to 
see  so  much  rapture  expressed  at  the  safety  of  a  child 
born  to  no  inheritance  but  poverty.  These  are  among 
the  feelings  with  which  Providence  sometimes  over- 
pays the  want  of  wealth.  The  good  people  also 
poured  out  prayers  and  blessings  on  their  deliverer, 
who,  not  being  a  philosopher,  was  no  more  ashamed 
of  praying  with  them  than  he  had  been  of  working  for 
them.  Mr.  Trueman,  while  assisting  at  the  fire,  had 
heard  that  Jenkins  and  his  wife  were  both  veiy  honest 
and  very  pious  people  ;  so  he  told  them  he  would  not 
only  pay  for  their  new  lodgings,  but  undertook  to 
raise  a  subscription  among  his  friends  at  the  Cat  and 
Bagpipes  toward  rebuilding  their  cottage  ;  and  farther 
engaged,  that  if  they  would  promise  to  bring  up  the 
child  in  the  fear  of  God,  he  would  stand  godfather. 

This  exercise  of  Christian  charity  had  given  such  a 
cheerful  flow  to  Mr.  Trueman's  spirits,  that  long  be- 
fore he  got  home  he  had  lost  every  trace  of  ill  humor. 
"  Well,  Mr.  Fantom,"  said  he,  gayly,  as  he  opened 
the  door,  "now  do  tell  me  how  you  could  possibly 
refuse  going  to  help  me  to  put  out  the  fire  at  Mr 
Jenkins's  ?" — "  Because,"  said  Fantom,  "  I  was  en- 
gaged, sir,  in  a  far  nobler  project  than  putting  out  a 
fire  in  a  little  thatched  cottage.  Sir,  I  w.ns  contriving 
to  put  out  a  fire  too  ;  a  conflagration  of  a  far  mora 


56  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

dreadful  kind — a  fire,  sir,  in  the  extinction  of  which 
universal  man  is  concerned — I  was  contriving  a  scheme 
to  extinguish  the  fires  of  the  inquisition." — "  Why, 
man,  they  don't  blaze  that  I  know  of,"  retorted  True- 
man.  "  I  own,  that  of  all  the  abominable  engines 
which  the  devil  ever  invented  to  disgrace  religion  and 
plague  mankind,  that  inquisition  was  the  very  worst. 
But  I  do  not  believe  popeiy  has  ventured  at  these 
diabolical  tricks  since  the  earthquake  at  Lisbon;  so 
that  a  bucket  of  real  water,  carried  to  the  real  fire  at 
Jenkins's  cottage,  would  have  done  more  good  than 
a  wild  plan  to  put  out  an  imaginary  flame  which  no 
longer  burns.  And  let  me  tell  you,  sir,  dreadful  as 
that  evil  was,  God  can  send  his  judgments  on  other 
sins  besides  superstition ;  so  it  behooves  us  to  take 
heed  of  the  other  extreme,  or  we  may  have  our  earth- 
quakes too.  The  hand  of  God  is  not  shortened,  sir, 
that  it  can  not  destroy,  any  more  than  it  can  not  save* 
In  the  meantime,  I  must  repeat  it,  you  and  I  are  rather 
called  upon  to  serve  a  neighbor  from  perishing  in  the 
flames  of  his  house,  just  under  our  own  window,  than 
to  write  about  the  fires  of  the  inquisition,  which,  if  fear, 
or  shame,  or  the  restoration  of  common  sense,  had 
not  already  put  out,  would  have  hardly  received  a 
check  from  such  poor  hands  as  you  and  I." 

"  Sir,"  said  Fantom,  "  Jenkins  is  an  impertinent  fel- 
low ;  and  I  owe  him  a  grudge,  because  he  says  he 
had  rather  forfeit  the  favor  of  the  best  master  in  Eng- 
land than  work  in  my  garden  on  a  Sunday.  And 
when  I  ordered  him  to  read  the  Age  of  Reason,  in- 
stead of  going  to  church,  he  refused  to  work  for  me 
at  all,  with  som«  impertinent  hint  about  God  and 
mammon. 

"Oh,  did  he  so?"  Said  Mr.  Trueman.  "  Now  I 
will  stand  godfather  to  his  child,  and  make  him  a 
handsome  present  into  the  bargain.  Indeed,  a  man 
must  be  a  philosopher  with  a  vengeance,  if  when  he 
sees  a  house  on  fire,  he  stays  to  consider  whether  the 
owner  has  oftended  him.     Oh,  Mr.  Fantom,  I  will 


IIISVORl     OF    MR.    FANTOM.  57 

forgive  you  still,  if  you  will  produce  me,  out  of  all 
your  philosophy,  such  a  senteuce  as  '  Love  your  ene- 
my— do  good  to  them  that  hate  you — if  thine  enemy 
hunger,  feed  him ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink ;'  1  will 
give  up  the  blessed  gospel  for  the  Age  of  Reason,  if 
you  will  only  bring  me  one  sentiment  equivalent  to 
this." 

Next  day  Mr.  Trueman  was  obliged  to  go  to  Lon- 
don on  business ;  but  retiurned  soon,  as  the  time  he 
had  allotted  to  spend  with  Mr.  Fantom  was  not  yet 
elapsed.  He  came  down  the  sooner,  indeed,  that 
he  might  bring  a  small  sum  of  money  which  the 
gentlemen  at  the  Cat  and  Bagpipes  had  cheerfully 
subscribed  for  Jenkins.  Trueman  did  not  forget  to 
desire  his  wife  to  make  up  also  a  quantity  of  clothing 
for  this  poor  family,  to  which  he  did  not  neglect  to  add 
a  parcel  of  good  books,  which  indeed  always  made  a 
part  of  his  charities,  as  he  used  to  say  there  was 
something  cruel  in  the  kindness  which  was  anxious 
to  relieve  the  bodies  of  men,  but  was  negligent  of  their 
souls.  He  stood  in  person  to  the  new-born  child, 
and  observed  with  much  pleasure,  that  Jenkins  and 
his  wife  thought  a  christening,  not  a  season  for  merry- 
making, but  a  solemn  act  of  religion.  And  they 
dedicated  their  infant  to  his  Maker  with  becoming 
seriousness. 

Trueman  left  the  cottage,  and  got  back  to  Mr.  Fan- 
tom's  just  as  the  family  ^ere  going  to  sit  down  to 
dinner,  as  he  had  promised. 

When  they  sat  down,  Mr.  Fantom  was  not  a  little 
out  of  humor  to  see  his  table  in  some  disorder. 
William  was  also  rather  more  negligent  than  usual 
Tf  the  company  called  for  bread,  he  gave  them  beer, 
and  he  took  away  th-e  clean  plates,  and  gave  them 
dirty  ones.  Mr.  Fantom  soon  discovered  that  his 
servant  was  very  drunk  :  he  flew  into  a  violent  passion, 
and  ordered  him  out  of  the  room,  charging  that  he 
should  not  appear  in  his  presence  in  that  condition 
William  obeyed ;  but  having  slept  an  hour  or  two. 


58  DOltfESTIC    TALES    ANB    ALLEGORIES. 

and  got  about  half  sober,  he  again  made  his  appear- 
ance. His  master  gave  him  a  most  severe  reprimand, 
and  called  him  an  idle,  drunken,  vicious  fellow.  "  Sir," 
said  William,  veiy  pertly,  "  if  I  do  get  drunk  now  and 
then,  I  only  do  it  for  the  good  of  my  countiy,  and  in 
obedience  to  your  wishes."  Mr.  Fantom,  thoroughly 
provoked,  now  began  to  scold  him  in  words  not  fit  to 
be  repeated,  and  asked  him  what  he  meant.  "  Why, 
sir,"  said  William,  "you  are  a  philosopher,  you  know, 
and  I  have  often  overheard  you  say  to  your  company, 
that  private  vices  are  public  benefits;  and  so  I  thought 
that  getting  drunk  was  as  pleasant  a  way  of  doing 
good  to  the  public  as  any,  especially  when  1  could 
oblige  my  master  at  the  same  time." 

"  Get  out  of  my  house,"  said  Mr.  Fantom,  in  a 
great  rage.  "  I  do  not  desire  to  stay  a  moment  long- 
er," said  William;  "  so  pay  me  my  wages." — "  Not 
I  indeed,"  replied  the  maste'r  ;  "  nor  will  I  give  you  a 
character ;  so  never  let  me  see  your  face  again." 
William  took  his  master  at  his  word,  and  not  only 
got  out  of  the  house,  but  went  out  of  the  country  too 
as  fast  as  possible.  When  they  found  he  was  really 
gone,  they  made  a  hue-and-cry,  in  order  to  detail  him 
till  they  examined  if  he  had  left  eveiything  in  the 
house  as  he  had  found  it.  But  William  had  got  out 
of  reach,  knowing  he  could  not  stand  such  a  scrutiny. 
On  examination,  Mr.  Fantpm  found  that  all  his  old 
port  was  gone,  and  3Irs.  Fantom  missed  three  of  her 
best  new  spoons.  William  was  pursued,  but  without 
success  ;  and  Mr.  Fantom  was  so  much  discomposed 
that  he  could  not  for  the  rest  of  the  day  talk  on  any 
subject  but  his  wine  and  his  spoons,  nor  harangue  on 
any  project  but  that  of  recovering  both  by  bringing 
William  to  justice. 

Some  days  passed  away,  in  which  Mr.  Fantom, 
having  had  time  to  cool,  began  to  be  ashamed  that  he 
had  been  betrayed  into  such  ungoverned  passion.  He 
made  the  best  excuse  he  could  ;  said  no  man  was  per- 
fect, and  though  he  owned  he  had  been  too  violent. 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    FANTOM.  59 

yet  still  he  hoped  William  would  be  brought  to  the 
punishment  he  deserved.  "In  the  meantime,"  said 
Mr  Trueman,  "seeing  how  ill  philosophy  has  agreed 
with  your  man,  suppose  you  were  to  set  about  teach- 
ing your  maids  a  little  religion  ?"  Mr.  Fantom  coolly 
replied,  that  '  'the  impertinent  retort  of  a  drunken 
footman  could  not  spoil  a  system." — "Your  system, 
however,  and  your  own  behavior,"  said  Trueman, 
"have  made  that  footman  a  scoundrel;  and  you  are 
answerable  for  his  offences." — "  Not  I,  truly,"  said 
Fantora;  "he  has  seen  me  do  no  harm;  he  has  nei- 
ther seen  me  cheat,  gamble,  nor  get  drunk  ;  and  I 
defy  you  to  say  I  corrupt  my  servants.  I  am  a  moral 
man,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Fantom,"  said  Trueman,  "  if  you  were  to 
get  drunk  everyday,  and  game  every  night,  you  would, 
indeed,  endanger  your  own  soul,  and  give  a  dreadful 
example  to  your  family  ;  but  great  as  those  sins  are, 
and  God  forbid  that  I  should  attempt  to  lessen  them ! 
still  they  are  not  worse,  nay,  they  are  not  so  bad  as 
the  pestilent  doctrines  with  which  you  infect  your 
house  and  your  neighborhood.  A  bad  action  is  like 
a  single  murder.  The  consequence  may  end  with 
the  crime,  to  all  but  the  perpetrator ;  but  a  wicked 
principle  is  throwing  lighted  gunpowder  into  a  town; 
it  is  poisoning  a  river ;  there  are  no  bounds,  no  cer- 
tainty, no  ends  to  its  mischief.  The  ill  effects  of  the 
worst  action  may  cease  in  time,  and  the  consequences 
of  your  bad  example  may  end  with  your  life ;  but 
souls  may  be  brought  to  perdition  by  a  wicked  princi- 
ple, after  the  author  of  it  has  been  dead  for  ages." 

Fantom.  You  talk  like  an  ignoramus,  who  has 
never  read  the  new  philosophy.  All  this  nonsense 
of  future  punishment  is  now  done  away.  It  is  our 
benevolence  which  makes  us  reject  your  creed  ;  we 
can  no  more  believe  in  a  deity  who  permits  so  much 
evil  in  the  present  world,  than  one  who  threatens 
sternal  punishment  in  the  next. 

Trueman.  What!  shall  mortal  man   be  more  mer- 


60  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

ciful  than  God  ?     Do  you  pretend  to  be  more  com* 

passionate  than   that  gracious  Father  who   sent  his 
own  Son  into  the  world  to  die  for  sinners  ? 

Fantom.  You  take  all  your  notions  of  the  Deity 
from  the  vulgar  views  your  Bible  gives  you  of  him. 
"  To  be  sure  I  u-j,"  said  Tnieman  :  "  can  you  tell  me 
any  way  of  getting  a  better  notion  of  him  ?  I  do  not 
want  any  of  your  farthing-candle  philosophy  in  the 
broad  sunshine  of  the  Gospel,  Mr.  Fantom.  My 
Bible  tells  me  that  '  God  is  love ;'  not  merely 
loving,  but  LOVE.  Now  do  you  think  a  Being,  whose 
very  essence  is  love,  would  permit  any  miseiy  among 
his  children  here,  if  it  was  not  to  be,  some  way  or 
other,  or  some  where  or  other,  for  their  good  ?  You 
forget  too,  that  in  a  world  where  there  is  sin,  there 
must  be  misery.  Then,  too,  I  suppose,  God  pennits 
this  very  misery  partly  to  exercise  the  suflerers  and 
partly  to  tiy  the  prosperous ;  for  by  trouble  God 
coiTects  some  and  tries  others.     Suppose  now,  Tom 

Saunders  had  not  been  put  in  prison,  you  and  I 

no,  I  beg  pardon,  you  saved  your  guinea;  well  then, 
our  club  and  I  could  not  have  shown  our  kind- 
ness in  getting  him  out  ;  nur  would  poor  Saunders 
himself  have  had  an  opportunity  of  exercising  his 
own  patience  and  submission  under  want  and  impris- 
onment. So  you  see  one  reason  why  God  permits 
misery,  is  that  good  men  may  have  an  opportunity  of 
lessening  it."  Mr.  Fantom  replied,  "  There  is  no 
object  which  I  have  more  at  heart;  I  have,  as  I  told 
you,  a  plan  in  my  head  of  such  universal  benevolence 
as  to  include  the  happiness  of  all  mankind." — "  Mr. 
Fantom,"  said  Trueman,  "  I  feel  that  I  have  a  general 
good  will  to  all  my  brethren  of  mankind  ;  and  if  i 
had  as  much  money  in  my  purse  as  I  have  love  in  my 
heart,  I  trust  I  should  prove  it  :  all  I  say  is,  that,  in  a 
station  of  life  where  I  can  not  do  much,  I  am  more 
called  upon  to  procure  the  happiness  of  a  poor  neigh 
bor,  who  has  no  one  else  to  look  to,  than  to  form  wild 
plans  for  the  good  of  mankind,  too  extensive  to  be 


HISTORY    OF   MR.   FANT05I.  61 

sccomplished,  and  too  chimerical  to  be  put  in  prac 
tice.  It  is  tlie  height  of  folly  for  a  little  ignorant 
tradesman  to  distract  himself  with  projecting  schemes 
which  require  the  wisdom  of  scholars,  the  experience 
of  statesmen,  and  the  power  of  kings  to  accomplish. 
I  can  not  free  whole  countries,  nor  reform  the  evils 
of  society  at  large,  but  I  can  free  an  aggrieved  wretch 
in  a  workhouse  ;  I  can  relieve  the  distresses  of  one 
of  my  journeymen ;  and  I  can  labor  to  reform  myself 
and  my  own  family." 

Some  weeks  after  this  a  letter  was  brought  to  Mr. 
Fantom  from  his  late  seiTant  William,  who  had  been 
turned  away  for  drunkenness,  as  related  above,  and 
who  had  also  robbed  his  master  of  some  wine  and 
some  spoons.  Mr.  Fantom,  glancing  his  eye  oven 
the  letter,  said,  "It  is  dated  from  Chelmsford  jail; 
that  rascal  has  got  into  prison.  I  am  glad  of  it,  with 
all  my  heart;  it  is  the  fittest  place  for  such  scoundrels. 
I  hope  he  will  be  sent  to  Botany  Bay,  if  not  hanged." 
"  O,  ho  I  my  good  friend,"  said  Trueman,  "  then  I 
find  that  in  abolishing  all  prisons  you  would  just  let 
one  stand  for  the  accommodation  of  those  who  would 
happen  to  rob  you.  General  benevolence,  I  see,  is 
compatible  with  particular  resentments,  though  indi- 
vidual kindness  is  not  consistent  with  universal  philan- 
thropy." Mr.  Fantom  drily  observed,  that  he  was 
not  fond  of  jokes,  and  proceeded  to  read  the  letter. 
It  expressed  an  earnest  wish  that  his  late  master 
would  condescend  to  pay  him  one  visit  in  his  dark 
and  doleful  abode ;  as  he  wished  to  say  a  few  words 
to  him  before  the  dreadful  sentence  of  the  law,  which 
had  already  been  pronounced,  shoidd  be  executed. 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  the  poor  fellow,"  said  True- 
man  ;  "  it  is  but  a  morning's  ride.  U  he  is  really  sc 
near  his  end  it  would  be  cruel  to  refuse  him."  "  Not 
I,  truly,"  said  Fantom ;  "  he  deserves  nothing  at  my 
hands  but  the  halter  he  is  likely  to  meet  with.  Such 
port  is  not  to  be  had  for  money!  and  the  spoons,  part 
of  my  new  dozen  I" — "  As  to  the  wine,"  said  True 
G 


62  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

man,  "  I  am  afraid  you  must  give  that  up,  but  the 
only  way  to  get  any  tidings  of  the  spoons  is  to  go 
and  hear  what  he  has  to  say  ;  I  have  no  doubt  but  he 
will  make  such  a  confession  as  may  be  very  useful  to 
others,  which,  you  know,  is  one  grand  advantage  of  - 
punishments  ;  and,  besides,  we  may  attbrd  him  some 
little  comfort."  "  As  to  comfort  he  desenes  none 
from  me,"  said  Fantom;  "and  as  to  his  confessions, 
they  can  be  of  no  use  to  me,  but  as  they  give  me  a 
chance  of  getting  my  spoons  ;  so  I  do  not  much  care 
if  I  do  take  a  ride  with  you." 

AVhen  they  came  to  the  prison,  Mr.  Trueman's 
tender  heart  sunk  within  him.  He  deplored  the  cor- 
rupt nature  of  man,  which  makes  such  rigorous 
confinement  indispensably  needful,  not  merely  for  the 
punishment  of  the  offender,  but  for  the  safety  of  so- 
ciety. Fantom,  from  mere  trick  and  habit,  was  just 
preparing  a  speech  on  benevolence,  and  the  cruelty 
of  imprisonment ;  for  he  had  a  set  of  sentiments  col- 
lected from  the  new  philosophy  which  he  always 
kept  by  him.  The  naming  a  man  in  power  brought 
out  the  ready  cut  and  dried  phrase,  against  oppres- 
sion. The  idea  of  rank  included  every  vice,  that  of 
poverty  every  virtue ;  and  he  was  furnished  with  all 
the  incentives  against  the  cruelty  of  laws,  punish- 
ments, and  prisons,  which  the  new  lexicon  has  pro- 
duced. But  his  mechanical  benevolence  was  sud- 
denly checked  ;  the  recollection  of  his  old  port  and 
his  new  spoons  cooled  his  ardor,  and  he  went  on 
without  saying  a  word. 

When  they  reached  the  cell  where  the  unhappy 
William  was  confined,  they  stopped  at  the  door 
The  poor  wretch  had  thrown  himself  on  the  ground, 
as  well  as  his  chains  would  permit.  He  groaned  pit- 
eously;  and  was  so  swallowed  up  with  a  sense  of 
his  own  miseries,  that  he  neither  heard  the  door 
open,  nor  saw  the  gentlemen.  He  was  attempting 
to  pray,  but  in  an  agony  which  made  his  words  hardly 
ntelligible.    Thus  much  they  could  make  out — "  God 


HISTORY    OF    MR.    FANTOM.  63 

be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,  the  chief  of  sinners  I" 
then,  suddenly  attempting  to  start  up,  but  prevented 
by  his  irons,  he  roared  out,  "  O  God  !  thou  canst  not 
be  merciful  to  me,  for  I  have  denied  thee  ;  I  have 
ridiculed  my  Savior  who  died  for  me  ;  I  have  broken 
his  laws ;  1  have  derided  his  word  ;  I  have  resisted 
his  Spirit ;  I  have  laughed  at  that  heaven  which  is 
shut  against  me;  I  have  denied  the  truth  of  those 
torments  which  await  me.     To-morrow  !  to-morrow ! 

0  for  a  longer  space  for  repentance !  O  for  a  short 
reprieve  from  hell  I" 

Mr.  Trueman  wept  so  loud  that  it  drew  the  atten- 
tion of  the  criminal,  who  now  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and 
cast  on  his  late  master  a  look  so  dreadful  that  Fantom 
wished  for  a  moment  that  he  had  given  up  all  hope 
of  the  spoons,  rather  than  have  exposed  himself  to 
such  a  scene.  At  length  the  poor  wretch  said,  in  a 
low  voice  that  would  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone, 
"  O,  sir,  are  you  there  ?  I  did  indeed  wish  to  see 
you  before  my  dreadful  sentence  is  put  in  execution. 
Oh,  sir!  to-morrow  !  to-morrow  !  But  I  have  a  con- 
fession to  make  to  you."  This  revived  Mr.  Fantom, 
who  again  ventured  to  glance  a  hope  at  the  spoons 
"  Sir,"  said  William,  "  I  could  not  die  without  ma- 
king my  confession."  "Ay,  and  restitution  too,  I 
hope,"  replied  Fantom:  "where  are  my  spoons?" 
"  Sir,  they  are  gone  with  the  rest  of  my  wretched 
booty.  But  oh,  sir  I  those  spoons  make  so  petty  an 
article  in  my  black  account,  that  I  hardly  think  of 
them.     Murder  I  sir,  murder  is  the  crime  for  which 

1  am  justly  doomed  to  die.  Oh,  sir,  who  can  abide 
the  anger  of  an  offended  God  ?  Who  can  dwell 
with  everlasting  burnings  ?"  As  this  was  a  question 
which  even  a  philosopher  could  not  answer,  Mr.  Fan- 
tom was  going  to  steal  off,  especially  as  he  now  gave 
up  all  hope  of  the  spoons ;  but  William  called  hmi 
back:  "Stay,  sir,  stay,  I  conjure  you,  as  you  will 
answer  it  at  the  bar  of  God.  You  nmst  hear  the  sins 
of  which  you  have  been  the  occasion.     You  are  the 


64  DOMESTIC    TAf.ES    AXD    ALLEGORIES. 

cause  of  my  being  about  to  suffer  a  sbamerul  death. 
Yes,  sir,  you  made  me  a  drunkard,  a  thiet",  and  a  mur- 
derer." "  How  dare  you,  William,"  cried  Mr.  Fan- 
torn,  with  great  emotion,  "  accuse  me  with  being  the 
cause  of  such  horrid  crimes  ?"  "  Sir,"  answered  the 
criminal,  "  from  you  I  learned  the  principles  which 
lead  to  those  crimes.  By  the  grace  of  God  I  should 
never  have  fallen  into  sins  desen'ing  of  the  gallows, 
if  I  had  not  overheard  you  say  there  was  no  hereafter, 
no  judgment,  no  future  reckoning.  O,  sir  !  there  is 
a  hell,  dreadful,  inconceivable,  eternal !"  Here, 
throu'gh  the  excess  of  anguish,  the  poor  fellow  faint- 
ed away.  3Ir.  Fantom,  who  did  not  at  all  lelish  this 
scene,  sai,d  to  Ms  friend,  "Well,  sir,  we  will  go,  if 
you  please,  for  you  see  there  is  nothing  to  be  done." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Trueman,  mournfully,  "  you 
may  go  if  you  please,  but  1  shall  stay,  for  I  see  tliere 
is  a  great  deal  to  be  done." — "  What  I"  rejoined  the 
other,  "do  you  think  it  is  possible  his  Ufe  can  be 
saved."  "No,  indeed,"  said  Trueman;  "  but  I  hope 
it  possible  his  soul  may  be  saved."  "  I  do  not  under- 
stand these  things,"  said  Fantom,  making  toward  the 
door.  "  Nor  I  neither,"  said  Trueman ;  "  but  as  a 
fellow-sinner,  I  am  bound  to  do  what  I  can  for  this 
poor  man.  Do  you  go  home,  Mr.  Fantom  and  finish 
your  treatise  on  universal  benevolence,  and  the  bles- 
sed effects  of  philosophy ;  and  hark  ye,  be  sure  you 
let  the  frontispiece  of  your  book  represent  William 
on  the  gibbet ;  that  will  be  what  our  minister  calls  a 
PRACTICAL  ILLUSTRATION.  You  know  I  hate  theo- 
ries :  tkis  is  realizing ;  this  is  philosophy  made 
easy  to  the  meanest  capacity.  This  is  the  precious 
fruit  which  grows  on  that  darling  tree,  so  many  slips 
of  which  have  been  transplanted  from  that  land  of 
liberty  of  which  it  is  the  native,  but  which,  with  all 
your  digging,  planting,  watering,  dunging,  and  dres- 
sing, will,  I  trust,  never  thrive  in  this  blessed  land  of 
ours." 

Mr.  Fantom  sneaked  off  to  finish  his  work  at  home; 
and  Mr.  Trueman  stayed  to  finish  his  in  the  prisoa 


HISTOKY    OF    MR.    FANTOM.  6S 

He  passed  the  night  with  the  wretched  convict ;  he 
prayed  with  him  and  for  him,  and  read  to  him  the 
penitential  psahus,  and  some  portion  of  the  gospel. 
But  he  was  too  humble  and  too  prudent  a  man  to 
venture  out  of  his  depth  by  arguments  and  consola- 
tions which  he  was  not  warranted  to  use  :  this  he  left 
for  the  clergyman — but  he  pressed  on  William  the 
great  duty  of  making  the  only  amends  now  in  his 
power,  to  those  whom  he  had  led  astray.  They  then 
drew  up  the  following  paper,  which  Mr.  Trueman 
sot  printed,  and  gave  away  at  the  place  of  execution. 

'  The  last  toords,  confession,  and  dying  speech  of 
AViLLiAM  Wilson,  ivho  was  executed  at  Chelmsford 
for  murder. 

"  I  was  bred  up  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  lived  with 
credit  in  many  sober  families,  in  which  I  was  a  faith- 
ful servant ;  but  being  tempted  by  a  little  higher  wa- 
ges, I  left  a  good  place  to  go  and  live  with  Mr.  Fan- 
tom,  who,  however,  made  good  none  of  his  fine  prom- 
ises, but  proved  a  hard  master.  Full  of  fine  words 
and  charitable  speeches  in  favor  of  the  poor;  but  apt 
10  oppress,  overwork,  and  underpay  them.  In  his 
service  I  was  not  allowed  time  to  go  to  church.  This 
troubled  me  at  first,  till  I  overheard  my  master  say, 
that  going  to  church  was  a  superstitious  prejudice, 
and  only  meant  for  the  vulgar.  Upon  this  I  resolved 
to  go  no  more  ;  for  I  thought  there  could  not  be  two 
religions,  one  for  the  master,  and  one  for  the  servant. 
Finding  my  master  never  prayed,  I  too  left  off  pray- 
ing :  this  gave  Satan  great  power  over  me,  so  that  I 
from  that  time  fell  into  almost  every  sin.  I  was  very 
uneasy  at  first,  and  my  conscience  gave  me  no  rest ; 
but  I  was  soon  reconciled  by  overhearing  my  master 
and  another  gentleman  say,  that  death  was  only  an 
eternal  sleep,  and  hell  and  judgment  were  but  an  in 
yention  of  priests  to  keep  the  poor  in  order.  I  men 
tion  this  as  a  warning  to  all  masters  and  mistresses  to 
take  care  what  they  converse  about  while  servants  are 


66  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGOEI£S. 

waiting  at  table.  They  can  not  tell  how  many  souls 
they  have  sent  to  perdition  by  such  loose  talk.  The 
r.rime  for  which  I  die  is  the  natural  consequence  of 
the  principles  I  learned  of  my  master.  A  rich  man, 
indeed,  who  throws  off  religion,  may  escape  the  gal- 
lows, because  want  does  not  drive  him  to  commit 
those  crimes  which  lead  to  it ;  but  what  shall  restrain 
a  needy  man,  who  has  been  taught  that  there  is  no 
dreadful  reckoning  ?  Honesty  is  but  a  dream  with- 
out the  awful  sanctions  of  heaven  and  hell.  Virtue 
is  but  a  shadow,  if  it  be  stripped  of  the  terrors  and  the 
promises  of  the  gospel.  Morality  is  but  an  empty 
name,  if  it  be  destitute  of  the  principle  and  power  of 
Christianity.  Oh,  my  dear  fellow-sen'antsl  take 
warning  by  my  sad  fate;  never  be  tempted  away  from 
a  sober  service  for  the  sake  of  a  little  more  wages : 
never  venture  your  immortal  souls  in  houses  where 
God  is  not  feared.  And  now  hear  me,  O,  my  God, 
though  I  have  blasphemed  thee !  forgive  me,  O  my 
Savior,  though  I  have  denied  thee!  Oh  Lord  most 
holy,  O  God  most  mighty,  deliver  me  from  the  bitter 
pains  of  eternal  death,  and  receive  my  soul  for  His 
sake  who  died  for  sinners.      "  William  Wilson." 

Mr.  Trueman  would  never  leave  this  poor  peni- 
tent till  he  was  launched  into  eternity,  but  attended 
him  with  the  minister  in  the  cart.  This  pious  cler- 
gyman never  cared  to  say  what  he  thought  of  Wil- 
liam's state.  When  Mr.  Tnieman  ventured  to  men- 
tion his  hope,  that  though  his  penitence  was  late,  yet 
it  was  sincere,  and  spoke  of  the  dying  thief  on  the 
cross  as  a  ground  of  encouragement,  the  minister 
with  a  very  serious  look,  made  this  answer:  "Sir, 
that  instance  is  too  often  brought  fol'^vard  on  occa- 
sions to  which  it  does  not  apply  :  I  do  not  choose  to 
say  anything  to  your  application  of  it  in  the  present 
case,  but  I  will  answer  you  in  the  words  of  a  good 
man  speaking  of  the  penitent  thief:  'There  is  one 
such  instance  given  that  nobody  might  despair,  and 
there  is  but  one,  that  nobody  might  presume.' " 


Vi»r    TTfO   SHOKMAKEBS  67 


III.  THE  TWO  SHOEMAKERS. 


^ACK  Brown  and  James  Stock  were  two  lads 
spprenticed  to  Mr.  Williams,  a  shoemaker,  in  a  small 
town  in  Oxfordshire.  They  were  near  tlie  same  age, 
-but  of  very  different  characters  and  dispositions. 

Brown  was  eldest  son  to  a  farmer  in  good  circum- 
stances, who  gave  the  usual  apprentice  fee  with  him. 
Being  a  wild,  giddy  boy,  whom  his  father  could  not 
well  manage  or  instruct  in  farming,  he  thought  it 
better  to  send  him  out  to  lecurn  a  trade  at  a  distnnce 
than  to  let  him  idle  about  at  home,  for  Jack  always 
preferred  bird's-nesting  and  marbles  to  any  other  em- 
ployment ;  he  would  trifle  away  the  day,  when  his 
father  thought  he  was  at  school,  with  any  boys  he 
could  meet  with,  who  were  as  idle  as  himself;  and 
he  could  never  be  prevailed  upon  to  do,  or  to  learn 
anything,  while  a  game  at  taw  could  be  had  for  love 
or  money.  All  this  time  his  little  brothers,  much 
younger  than  himself,  were  beginning  to  follow  the 
iplough,  or  to  cany  the  corn  to  the  mill  as  soon  as 
they  were  able  to  mount  a  cart-horse. 

Jack,  however,  who  was  a  lively  boy,  and  did  not 
naturally  want  either  sense  or  good-nature,  might 
have  turned  out  well  enough  if  he  had  not  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  his  mother's  favorite.  She  conceal- 
ed and  forgave  all  his  faults.  To  be  sure  he  was  a 
little  wild,  she  would  say,  but  be  would  not  make  the 
worse  man  for  that,  for  Jack  had  a  good  spirit  of  his 
own,  3Jid  she  wouid  not  have  it  broke,  and  so  make 


68  DOMESTIC     T.M.KS    ANO    ALI^VJ.ORIES. 

a  mope  of  the  boy.  The  farmer,  for  a  quiet  hfe,  as 
it  is  called,  gave  up  all  these  points  to  his  wife,  and, 
with  them,  gave  up  the  future  virtue  and  happiness 
of  his  child.  He  was  a  laborious  and  industrious 
man,  but  had  no  religion;  he  thought  only  of  the 
gains  and  advantages  of  the  present  day,  and  never 
took  the  future  into  the  account.  His  wife  managed 
him  entirely,  and  as  she  was  really  notable  he  did 
not  trouble  his  head  about  anything  farther.  If  she 
had  been  careless  in  her  dairy,  he  woiild  have  storm- 
ed and  sworn  ;  \mt  as  she  only  ruined  one  child  by 
indulgence,  and  almost  broke  the  hearts  of  the  rest 
by  unkindness,  he  gave  himself  little  concern  about 
the  matter.  The  cheese,  certainly,  was  good,  and 
that,  indeed,  is  a  great  point ;  but  she  was  neglectful 
of  her  children  and  a  tyrant  to  her  servants.  Her 
husband's  substance,  indeed,  was  not  wasted,  but  his 
happiness  was  not  consulted.  His  house,  it  is  trae, 
was  not  dirty,  but  it  was  the  abode  of  fury,  ill-tem- 
per, and  covetousness.  And  the  farmer,  though  he 
did  not  care  for  liquor,  was  too  often  driven  to  the 
public-house  in  the  evening  because  his  own  was 
neither  quiet  nor  comfortable.  The  mother  was  al- 
ways scolding,  and  the  children  were  always  crj'ing. 

Jack,  however,  notwithstanding  his  idleness,  picked 
up  a  little  reading  and  writing,  but  never  would  learn 
to  cast  an  account — that  was  too  much  labor.  His 
mother  was  desirous  he  should  continue  at  school, 
not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  his  learning,  which  she 
had  not  sense  enough  to  value,  but  to  save  her  darling 
from  the  fatigue  of  labor,  for  if  he  had  not  gone  to 
school  she  knew  he  must  have  gone  to  work,  and  she 
thought  the  former  was  the  least  tiresome  of  the  two. 
Indeed  this  foolish  woman  had  such  an  opinion  of 
his  genius,  that  she  used  from  a  child  to  think  he 
was  too  wise  for  anything  but  a  parson,  and  hoped 
she  should  live  to  see  him  one.  She  did  not  wish 
to  see  her  son  a  minister  because  she  loved  either 
•earning  or  piety,  but  because  she  thought  it  would 


THE   TWO   SHOEMAKER*.  i6S 

jnake  Jack  a  gentleman,  and  set  him  above  Lis  bro- 
thers. 

Farmer  Brown  still  hoped,  that  though  Jack  was 
5ikely  to  make  but  an  idle  and  ignorant  farmer,  yet  he 
might  make  no  bad  tradesman,  when  he  should  be 
removed  from  the  indulgences  of  a  father's  house, 
and  from  a  silly  mother,  whose  fondness  kept  him 
back  in  eveiything.  This  woman  was  enraged  when 
she  found  that  so  fine  a  scholar  as  she  took  Jack  to 
■be,  was  to  be  put  apprentice  to  a  shoemaker.  The 
farmer,  however,  for  the  first  time  in  his  hfe,  would 
have  his  own  way.  But  being  a  woddly  nian,  and 
too  apt  to  mind  only  what  is  falsely  called  the  main 
chance,  instead  of  being  careful  to  look  out  for  a  sober, 
prudent,  and  religious  master  for  his  son,  he  left  all 
that  to  accident,  as  if  it  had  been  a  thing  of  little  or 
no  consequence.  This  is  a  veiy  common  fault,  and 
fathere  who  are  guilty  of  it  are  in  a  great  measure 
answerable  for  tlie  future  sins  and  errors  of  their, 
children,  when  they  come  out  into  the  world  and 
set  up  for  themselves.  If  a  man  gives  his  son  a  good 
education,  a  good  example,  and  a  good  master,  it  is 
indeed  possible  that  the  son  may  not  turn  out  well, 
but  it  does  not  often  happen,  and  when  it  does,  the 
father  has  no  blame  resting  on  him;  and  it  is  a  great 
point  toward  a  man's  comfort  to  have  his  conscience 
quiet  in  that  respect,  however  God  may  think  fit  to 
overrule  events. 

The  farmer,  however,  took  care  to  dcKire  his  friends 
to  inquire  for  a  shoemaker  who  had  good  business, 
and  was  a  good  workman  ;  and  the  mother  d.d  not 
■forget  to  put  in  her  word,  and  desired  that  it  might 
he  one  who  was  not  loo  strict,  for  Jack  had  beejn 
lirought  up  tenderly,  was  a  meek  boy,  and  could  not 
bear  to  be  contradicted  in  anything.  This  is  the 
common  notion  of  meekness  among  people  who  do 
not  take  up  their  notions  on  rational  and  Christian 
grounds. 

Mr-  Williams  was  recommended  to  the  farmer  as 


70  DOMESTIC    TALES     /k>D    ALLEGORIES. 

being  the  best  shoemaker  in  the  town  in  which  he 
Hved,  and  not  a  strict  master.  So  without  farther  in- 
quiries to  3Ir.  WiUiams  he  went. 

James  Stock,  who  was  the  son  of  an  honest  laborer 
in  the  next  village,  was  bound  out  by  the  parish  in 
consideration  of  his  father  having  so  numerous  a 
family  that  he  was  not  able  to  put  him  out  himself. 
James  was  in  everything  the  very  reverse  of  his  new 
companion.  He  \vas  a  modest,  industrious,  pious 
youth,  and  though  so  poor,  and  the  child  of  a  laborer, 
WHS  a  much  better  scholar  than  .Jack,  who  was  a 
wealthy  farmer's  son.  His  father  had,  it  is  true,  been 
able  to  give  him  but  very  little  schooling,  for  he  was 
obliged  to  be  put  to  work  when  quite  a  child.  Wlien 
?ery  young  he  used  to  iiin  of  errands  for  Mr.  Thom- 
as, the  curate  of  the  parish,  a  very  kind-hearted 
young  gentleman,  who  boarded  next  door  to  his  fa- 
ther's cottage.  He  used  also  to  rub  down  and  saddle 
his  horse,  and  do  any  other  little  job  for  him  in  the 
most  civil,  obliging  manner.  All  this  so  recommend- 
ed him  to  the  clergyman,  that  he  would  often  send 
for  him  of  an  evening,  after  he  had  done  his  day's 
work  in  the  field,  and  condescended  to  teach  him 
himself  to  write  and  cast  accounts,  as  well  as  to  in- 
struct him  in  the  principles  of  his  religion.  It  was 
not  merely  out  of  kindness  for  the  little  good-natured 
services  James  did  him,  that  he  showed  him  this  fa- 
vor, but  also  for  his  readiness  in  the  catechism,  and 
his  devout  behavior  at  church. 

The  first  thing  that  drew  the  minister's  attention  to 
this  boy,  was  the  following:  He  had  frequently  given 
him  half-pence  and  pence  for  holding  his  horse  and 
carrying  him  to  water  before  he  was  big  enough  to 
be  further  useful  to  him.  On  Christmas  day  he  was 
surprised  to  see  James  at  church,  reading  out  of  a 
handsome  new  prayer-book  ;  he  wondered  how  he 
came  by  it,  for  he  knew  there  was  nobodj-  in  the 
parish  likely  to  have  given  it  to  him,  for  at  that  tune 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKHRS.  71 

there  were  no  Sunday-schools,  and  the  father  could 
not  afford  it.  he  was  sure. 

*'  Well,  James,"  said  he,  as  he  saw  him  when  they 
came  out,  "you  made  a  good  figure  at  church  to- 
day ;  it  made  you  look  like  a  man  and  a  Christian, 
not  only  to  have  so  handsome  a  book,  but  to  be  so 
ready  in  all  parts  of  the  service.  How  came  you  by 
that  book  ?"  James  owned  modestly,  that  he  had 
been  a  whole  year  saving  up  the  money  by  single 
half-j>ence,  all  of  which  had  been  of  the  minister's 
own  giving,  and  that  in  all  that  time  he  had  not  spent 
a  single  farthing  on  his  own  diversions.  "  My  dear 
boy,"  said  the  good  Mr.  Thomas,  "  I  am  much  mis- 
taken if  thou  dost  not  turn  out  well  in  the  world,  for 
two  reasons  :  first,  from  thy  saving  turn  and  self-de- 
nying temper,  and  next,  because  thou  didst  devote 
the  first  eighteen-pence  thou  wast  ever  worth  in  the 
world  to  so  good  a  purpose." 

James  bowed  and  blushed,  and  from  that  time  Mr. 
Thomas  began  to  take  more  notice  of  him,  and  to  in- 
struct him  as  I  said  above.  As  James  soon  grew  able 
to  do  him  more  considerable  seiTice,  he  would  now 
and  then  give  him  a  sixpence.  This  he  constantly 
saved  till  it  became  a  little  sum,  with  which  he  bought 
shoes  aud  stockings,  well  knowing  that  his  poor 
father,  with  a  large  family  and  low  wages,  could  not 
buy  them  for  him.  As  to  what  little  money  he 
earned  himself  by  his  daily  labor  in  the  field,  he 
constantly  carried  it  to  his  mother  every  Saturday 
night,  to  buy  bread  for  the  family,  which  was  a  pretty 
help  to  them. 

As  James  was  not  over-stout  in  his  make,  liis  father 
thankfully  accepted  the  offer  of  the  jjarish-officers  to 
bind  out  his  son  to  a  trade.  This  good  man,  how- 
ever, had  not,  like  Farmer  Brown,  the  liberty  of 
choosing  a  master  for  his  son,  or  he  would  carefully 
have  inf|uired  if  he  was  a  proper  man  to  have  the 
care  of  you-*li ;  but  Williams,  the  shoemaker,  was 
already  lixed  on  by  those  wlio   were  to  put  the  boy 


72  DOMESTIC    TALtS    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

0T\t,  wbo  told  him  if  he  wanted  a  master  it  must  hs 
liim  or  none,  for  the  overseers  had  a  better  opinion  oi 
Williams  than  he  deserved,  and  thought  it  would  be 
the  making  of  the  boy  to  go  to  him.  The  father 
knew  that  beggars  must  not  be  choosers,  so  he  fitted 
out  James  for  his  n-ew  place,  having  indeed  little  to 
give  him  besides  his  blessing. 

The  worthy  Mr.  Thpmas,  howver,  kindly  gave 
him  an  old  coat  and  waistcoat,  which  his  mother, 
who  was  a  neat  and  notable  woman,  contrived  to 
make  up  for  him  herself,  and  when  it  was  turned  and 
made  fit  for  his  size,  it  made  him  a  very  handsome 
suit  for  Sundays,  and  lasted  him  a  couple  of  years. 

Here  let  me  remark  what  a  pity  it  is,  that  pool 
women  so  seldom  are  able  or  willing  to  do  these  little 
handy  jobs  themselves,  and  that  they  do  not  oftener 
bring  up  their  daughters  to  be  more  useful  in  family 
work.  They  are  great  losers  by  it  eveiy  way,  nol 
only  as  they  are  disqualifying  their  girls  from  making 
good  wives  hereafter,  but  they  are  losers  in  point  of 
present  advantage,  for  gentry  could  much  oftener  af- 
ford to  give  a  poor  boy  a  jacket  or  a  waistcoat,  if  it 
was  not  for  the  expense  of  making  it,  which  adds 
very  much  to  the  cost.  Many  poor  women  would 
often  get  an  old  coat,  or  a  bit  of  coarse  new  cloth 
given  to  them  to  fit  out  a  boy,  if  the  mothers  or  sis- 
ters were  known  to  be  able  to  cut  out  to  advantage, 
and  to  make  it  up  decently  themselves. 

The  two  young  shoemakers  were  both  settled  art 
Mr.  Williams's,  who,  as  he  was  known  to  be  a  good 
workman,  had  plenty  of  business  ;  he  had  sometimes 
two  or  three  journeymen,  biit  no  apprentices  but 
Jack  and  James. 

Jack,  who,  with  all  his  faults,  was  a  keen,  smart 
boy,  took  to  learn  the  trade  quick  enough,  but  the 
difficulty  was  to  make  him  stick  two  hours  together 
to  his  work.  At  every  noise  he  heard  in  the  street 
down  went  the  work — the  last  one  way,  the  upper 
leather  another ;    the   sole  dropped   on  the   ground, 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  73 

and  the  thread  dragged  after  him  all  the  way  up  the 
street.  If  a  blind  fiddler,  a  ballad-singer,  a  mounte- 
bank, a  dancing  bear,  or  a  drum,  were  heard  at  a  dis- 
tance— out  ran  Jack — nothing  could  stop  him,  and 
not  a  stitch  more  could  he  be  prevailed  on  to  do  that 
day.  Every  duty,  eveiy  promise  was  forgotten  for 
the  present  pleasure — he  could  not  resist  the  smallest 
temptation — he  never  stopped  for  a  moment  to  con- 
sider whether  a  thing  was  right  or  wrong,  but  wheth- 
er he  liked  or  disliked  it.  And  as  his  ill-judging 
mother  took  care  to  send  him  privately  a  good  supply 
of  pocket-money,  that  deadly  bane  to  all  youthful 
virtue,  he  had  generally  a  few  pence  ready  to  spend, 
and  to  indulge  in  the  present  diversion,  whatever  it 
was.  And  what  was  still  worse  even  than  spending 
his  money,  he  spent  his  time,  too,  or  rather  his  mas- 
ter's time  Of  this  he  was  continually  reminded  by 
James,  to  whom  he  always  answered,  "  What  have 
you  to  complain  about  ?  It  is  nothing  to  you  or  any 
one  else  ;  I  spend  nobody's  money  but  my  own." 
"That  may  be,"  replied  the  other,  "but  you  can  not 
say  that  it  is  your  own  time  that  you  si)end."  He 
insisted  upon  it  that  it  was;  but  James  fetched  down 
their  indentures,  and  there  showed  him  that  he  had 
solemnly  bound  himself  by  that  instrument  not  to 
waste  his  master's  property.  "  Now,"  quoth  James, 
"  thy  own  time  is  a  very  valuable  part  of  thy  mas- 
ter's property."  To  this  he  replied,  that  "  every  one's 
time  was  his  own,  and  he  should  not  sit  moping  all 
day  over  his  last — for  his  part,  he  thanked  God  he 
was  no  parish  'prentice." 

James  did  not  resent  this  piece  of  silly  impertinence, 
as  some  silly  lads  would  have  done,  nor  fly  out  into 
a  violent  passion  ;  for  even  at  this  early  age  he  had 
begun  to  learn  of  Him  u-ho  was  meek  and  lowly  of 
heart ;  and  therefore,  when  he  was  reviled,  he  reviled 
not  again.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  so  very  kind  and 
gentle,  that  even  Jack,  vain  and  idle  as  he  was,  could 
7 


#4  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND   ALLEGORIES. 

not  help  loving  him,  though  he  took  care  never  to  fo\ 
low  his  advice. 

Jack's  fondness  for  his  boj'ish  and  silly  diversions 
in  the  street,  soon  produced  the  effects  which  might 
naturally  be  expected ;  and  the  same  idleness  which 
led  him  to  fly  out  into  the  town  at  the  sound  of  a  fid- 
dle or  the  sight  of  a  puppet-show,  soon  led  him  to 
those  places  to  which  all  these  fiddles  and  shows 
naturally  lead — I  mean  the  alehouse.  The  acquaint- 
ance picked  up  in  the  street  was  carried  on  at  the 
Grayhound  ;  and  the  idle  pastimes  of  the  boy  soon 
led  to  the  destnxctive  vices  of  the  man. 

As  he  was  not  an  ill-tempered  youth,  nor  naturally 
much  given  to  drink,  a  sober  and  prudent  m  Aster,  who 
had  been  steady  in  his  management  and  regular  in  his 
own  conduct,  who  would  have  recommended  good 
advice  by  a  good  example,  might  have  made  some- 
thing of  Jack.  But  Mr.  Williams,  though  a  good 
workman,  and  not  a  very  hard  or  severe  master,  w'as 
neither  a  sober  nor  a  steady  man  :  so  far  from  it,  that 
he  spent  much  more  time  at  the  Grayhound  than  at 
home.  There  was  no  order  either  in  his  shop  or 
family.  He  left  the  chief  care  of  his  business  to  his 
two  young  apprentices ;  and  being  but  a  worldly  man, 
he  was  at  first  disposed  to  show  favor  to  Jack,  much 
more  than  to  James,  because  he  had  more  money, 
and  his  father  was  better  in  the  world  than  the  father 
of  poor  James. 

At  first,  therefore,  he  was  disposed  to  consider 
James  as  a  sort  of  drudge,  who  was  to  do  all  the  me- 
nial work  of  the  family,  and  he  did  not  care  how  little 
he  taught  him  of  his  trade.  With  Mrs.  Williams  the 
matter  was  still  worse  ;  she  constantly  called  him 
away  from  the  business  of  his  trade  to  wash  the  house, 
nurse  the  child,  turn  the  spit,  or  run  of  errands.  Here 
I  must  remark,  that  though  parish  apprentices  are 
bound  in  duty  to  be  submissive  to  both  master  and 
mistress,  and  always  to  make  themselves  as  usefu  as 
they  can  in  a  family,  and  to  be  civil  and  humble,  yet 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  75 

it  is  the  duty  of  masters  always  to  remember,  that  if 
they  are  paid  for  instructing  them  in  their  trade,  they 
ought  conscientiously  to  instruct  them  in  it,  and  not 
to  employ  them  the  greater  part  of  their  time  in  such 
household  or  other  drudgery,  as  to  deprive  them  of 
the  opportunity  of  acquiring  their  trade.  This  prac- 
tice is  not  the  less  unjust  because  it  is  common. 

Mr.  Williams  soon  found  out  that  his  favorite  Jack 
would  be  of  little  use  to  him  in  the  shop;  for  though 
he  worked  well  enough,  he  did  not  care  how  little  he 
did.  Nor  could  he  be  of  the  least  use  to  his  mastei 
in  keeping  an  account,  or  writing  out  a  bill  upon  oc- 
casion ;  for,  as  he  never  could  be  made  to  learn  to 
cipher,  he  did  not  know  addition  from  multiplication. 

One  day  one  of  the  customers  called  at  the  shop  in 
a  great  hurry,  and  desired  his  bill  might  be  made  out 
that  minute.  Mr.  Williams,  having  taken  a  cup  too 
much,  made  several  attempts  to  put  down  a  clear  ac- 
count, but  the  more  he  tried,  the  less  he  found  him- 
self able  to  do  it.  James,  who  was  sitting  at  his  last, 
rose  up,  and  with  great  modesty,  asked  his  master  if 
he  would  please  to  give  him  leave  to  make  out  the 
bill,  saying,  that  though  but  a  poor  scholar,  he  would 
do  his  best,  rather  than  keep  the  gentleman  waiting. 
Williams  gladly  accepted  his  offer,  and  confused  as 
his  head  was  with  liquor,  he  yet  was  able  to  observe 
with  what  neatness,  despatch,  and  exactness,  the  ac- 
count was  drawn  out.  From  that  time  he  no  longer 
considered  James  as  a  drudge,  but  as  one  fitted  for  the 
high  departments  of  the  trade,  and  he  was  now  regu- 
larly employed  to  manage  the  accounts,  with  which 
all  the  customers  were  so  well  pleased,  that  it  con- 
tributed greatly  to  raise  him  in  his  master's  esteem; 
for  there  were  now  never  any  of  those  blunders  or 
false  charges  for  w^hich  the  shop  had  before  been  so 
famous. 

James  went  on  in  a  regular  course  of  industiy,  and 
soon  became  the  best  workman  Mr.  Williams  had  ; 
but  there  many  things  in  the  family  which  he  greatly 


/6  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ^LLIGORIF.S. 

disapproved.  Some  of  the  journeymen  used  to  swear, 
drink,  and  sing  licentious  songs.  All  these  things 
were  a  great  grief  to  his  sober  mind.  He  complained 
to  his  master,  who  only  laughed  at  him ;  and,  in- 
deed, as  Williams  did  the  same  himself,  he  put  it 
out  of  his  power  to  correct  his  servants,  if  he  had 
been  so  disposed.  James,  however,  used  always  to 
reprove  them  with  great  mildness  indeed,  but  with 
great  seriousness  also.  This,  but  still  more  his  own 
excellent  example,  produced  at  length  very  good  ef- 
fects on  such  of  the  men  as  were  not  quite  hardened 
in  sin. 

What  grieved  him  most,  was  the  manner  m  which 
the  Sunday  was  spent.  The  master  lay  in  bed  all  the 
morning :  nor  did  the  mother  or  her  children  ever  go 
to  church,  except  there  was  some  new  finery  to  be 
shown,  or  a  christening  to  be  attended.  The  town's 
ueople  were  coming  to  the  shop  all  the  morning,  for 
work  which  should  have  been  sent  home  the  night 
before,  had  not  the  master  been  at  the  alehouse.  And 
what  wounded  James  to  the  very  soul  was,  that  the 
master  expected  the  two  apprentices  to  carry  home 
shoes  to  the  countiy  customers  on  the  Sunday  morn- 
ing, which  he  wickedly  thought  was  a  saving  of  time, 
as  it  prevented  their  hindering  their  work  on  the  Sat- 
urday. These  shameful  practices  greatly  afflicted 
poor  James.  He  begged  his  master,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  to  excuse  him,  but  he  only  laughed  at  his 
squeamish  conscience,  as  he  called  it. 

Jack  did  not  dislike  this  part  of  the  business,  and 
generally  after  he  had  delivered  his  parcel,  wasted 
good  part  of  the  day  in  nutting,  playing  at  fives,  or 
dropping  in  at  the  public  house  :  anything  was  better 
to  Jack  than  going  to  church. 

James,  on  the  other  hand,  when  he  was  compelled 
sorely  against  his  conscience  to  carry  home  any  goods 
on  a  Sunday  morning,  always  got  up  as  soon  as  it 
was  light,  knelt  down  and  prayed  heartily  to  God  to 
forgive  him  a  sin  which  it  was  not  in  his  power  to 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  77 

avoid.  He  took  care  not  to  lose  a  moment  by  the 
way ;  but  as  he  was  taking  his  walk  with  the  utmost 
speed,  to  leave  his  shoes  with  the  customers,  he  spent 
his  time  in  endeavoring  to  keep  up  good  thoughts  in 
his  mind,  and  praying  that  the  day  might  come  when 
his  conscience  might  be  delivered  from  this  grievous 
burden.  He  was  now  particularly  thankful  that  Mr. 
Thomas  had  formerly  taught  him  so  many  psalms 
and  chapters,  which  he  used  to  repeat  in  these  walks 
with  great  devotion. 

He  always  got  home  before  the  rest  of  the  family 
were  up,  dressed  himself  very  clean,  and  went  twice 
to  church,  as  he  greatly  disliked  the  company  and 
practices  of  his  master's  house,  particularly  on  the 
sabbath-day,  he  preferred  spending  his  evening  alone, 
reading  his  Bible,  which  I  had  forgot  to  say  the  wor 
thy  clergyman  had  given  him  when  he  left  his  native 
village.  Sunday  evening,  which  is  to  some  people 
such  a  burden,  was  to  James  the  highest  holyday.  He 
had  formerly  learnt  a  little  how  to  sing  a  psalm  of  the 
clerk  of  his  own  parish,  and  this  was  now  become  a 
very  delightful  part  of  his  evening  exercise.  And  as 
Will  Simpson,  one  of  the  journeymen,  by  James's 
advice  and  example,  was  now  beginning  to  be  of  a 
more  serious  way  of  thinking,  he  often  asked  him  to 
sit  an  hour  with  him,  when  they  read  the  Bible,  and 
talked  it  over  together  in  a  manner  very  pleasant  and 
improving  ;  and  as  Will  was  a  famous  singer,  a  psalm 
or  two  sung  together  was  a  vciy  innocent  j)leasure. 

James's  good  manners  and  civility  to  the  customers 
drew  much  business  to  the  shop ;  and  his  skill  as  a 
workman  was  so  great,  that  eveiy  one  desired  that  his 
shoes  might  be  made  by  James.  Williams  grew  so 
very  idle  and  negligent,  that  he  now  totally  neglected 
his  affairs,  and  to  hard  drinking  added  deep  gaming. 
All  James's  care,  both  of  the  shop  and  the  accounts, 
could  not  keep  things  in  any  tolerable  order.  He 
represented  to  his  master  that  they  were  growing 
worse  and  worse,  and  exhorted  him,  if  he  valued  his 


78  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

credit  as  a  traJesman,  his  comfort  as  a  husband  and 
father,  his  character  as  a  master,  and  his  soul  as  a 
Christian,  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  Williams  swore 
a  great  oath,  that  he  would  not  be  restrained  in  his 
pleasures  to  please  a  canting  parish  "prentice,  nor  to 
humor  a  parcel  of  squalling  brats  ;  that  let  people 
say  what  they  would  of  him,  they  should  never  say 
he  was  a  hypocrite,  and  as  long  as  they  could  not  call 
him  that,  he  did  not  care  what  else  they  called  him. 

In  a  violent  passion  he  immediately  went  to  the 
Grayhound,  where  he  now  spent  not  only  every  even- 
ing, which  he  had  long  done,  but  good  part  of  the  day 
and  night  also.  His  wife  was  very  dressy,  extrava- 
gant, and  fond  of  company,  and  wasted  at  home  as 
fast  as  her  husband  spent  abroad,  so  that  all  the  neigh- 
bors said,  if  it  had  not  been  for  James,  his  master  must 
have  been  a  bankrupt  long  ago,  but  they  were  sure  he 
could  not  hold  it  much  longer. 

As  Jack  Brown  sung  a  good  song,  and  played  many 
diverting  tricks,  Williams  liked  his  company,  and 
often  allowed  him  to  make  one  at  the  Grayhound, 
where  he  would  laugh  heartily  at  his  stories  ;  so  that 
eveiy  one  thought  Jack  was  the  greater  favorite — so 
he  was  as  a  companion  in  frolic,  and  foolery,  and 
pleasure,  as  it  is  called ;  but  he  would  not  trust  him 
with  an  inch  of  leather  or  sixpence  in  money :  no,  no 
— when  bixsiness  was  to  be  done,  or  trust  Avas  to  be 
reposed,  James  was  the  man  :  the  idle  and  the  drunken 
never  trust  one  another,  if  they  have  common  sense. 
They  like  to  laugh,  and  sing,  and  riot,  and  drink  to- 
gether, but  when  they  want  a  friend,  a  counsellor,  a 
helper  in  business  or  in  troub  Je,  they  go  farther  afield ; 
and  Williams,  while  he  would  drink  with  Jack,  would 
trust  James  with  untold  gold ;  and  even  was  foolishly 
tempted  to  neglect  his  business  the  more,  from  know- 
ing that  he  had  one  at  home  who  was  taking  care 
of  it. 

In  spite  of  all  James's  care  and  diligence,  however, 
tilings  were  growing  worse  and  worse  ;    the   mors 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  79 

James  saved,  the  more  his  master  and  mistress  spent. 
One  morning,  just  as  the  shop  was  opened,  and  James 
had  set  everybody  to  their  resjiective  work,  and  he 
himself  was  setthng  the  business  for  the  day,  he  found 
that  his  master  was  not  yet  come  from  the  Grayhouud. 
As  this  was  now  become  a  common  case,  he  only 
grieved  but  did  not  wonder  at  it.  While  he  was  in- 
dulging sad  thoughts  on  what  would  be  the  end  of 
all  this,  in  ran  the  tapster  from  the  Grayhound,  out  of 
breath,  and  with  a  look  of  terror  and  dismay  desiied 
James  would  step  over  to  the  public  house  with  him 
that  moment,  for  that  his  master  wanted  him. 

James  went  immediately,  surprised  at  this  unusual 
message.  When  he  got  into  the  kitchen  of  the  public 
house,  which  he  now  entered  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  though  it  was  just  opposite  to  the  house  in  which 
he  lived,  he  was  shocked  at  the  beastly  disgusting  ap- 
pearance of  everything  he  beheld.  There  was  a  table 
covered  with  tankards,  punch-bowls,  broken  glasses, 
pipes,  and  dirty,  greasy  packs  of  cards,  and  all  over 
wet  with  liquor  ;  the  floor  was  strewed  with  broken 
earthen  cups,  odd  cards,  and  an  EO  table  which  had 
been  shivered  to  pieces  in  a  quarrel;  behind  the  table 
stood  a  crowd  of  dirty  fellows,  with  matted  locks,  hol- 
low eyes,  and  faces  smeared  with  tobacco.  James 
made  his  way  after  the  tapster,  through  this  wretched- 
looking  crew,  to  a  settle  which  stood  in  the  chimney 
corner.  Not  a  word  was  uttered,  but  the  silent  horror 
seemed  to  denote  something  more  than  a  mere  com- 
mon drunken  bout. 

What  was  the  dismay  of  James  when  he  saw  his 
miserable  master  stretched  out  on  the  settle,  in  all  the 
agonies  of  death  !  He  had  fallen  into  a  fit,  after  hav- 
ing drank  hard  best  part  of  the  night,  and  seemed  to 
have  but  a  few  minutes  to  live.  In  his  frightful 
countenance  was  displayed  the  dreadful  picture  of 
sin  and  death,  for  he  struggled  at  once  under  the 
guilt  of  intoxication  and  the  pangs  of  a  dying  man. 
He  recovered  his  senses  for  a  few  moments,  and  call- 


80  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

ed  out  to  ask  if  his  faithful  servant  was  come.  James 
went  up  to  him,  took  him  by  his  cold  hand,  but  was 
too  much  moved  to  speak.  "Oh!  James,  James," 
cried  he,  in  a  broken  voice,  "pray  for  me,  comfort 
me."  James  spoke  kindly  to  him,  but  was  too  hon- 
est to  give  him  false  comfort,  as  is  too  often  done  by 
mistaken  friends  in  these  dreadful  moments. 

"James,"  said  he,  "I  have  been  a  bad  master  to 
you ;  you  would  have  saved  me,  soul  and  body,  but 
I  would  not  let  you  ;  I  have  ruined  my  wife,  my 
children,  and  my  own  soul.  Take  warning,  oh,  take 
warning  by  my  miserable  end,"  said  he  to  his  stupi- 
fied  companions  ;  but  none  were  able  to  attend  to  him 
but  James,  who  bid  him  lift  up  his  heart  to  God,  and 
prayed  heartily  for  him  himself.  "  Oh  !' '  said  the 
dying  man,  "  it  is  too  late,  too  late  for  me — but  you 
have  still  time,"  said  he  to  the  half  drunken,  temfied 
crew  around  him.  "  Where  is  Jack  ?"  Jack  Brown 
came  forward,  but  was  too  much  frightened  to  speak. 
"  O  wretched  boy  !"  said  he,  "  I  fear  I  shall  have  the 
ruin  of  thy  soul  as  well  as  my  own  to  answer  for. 
Stop  short.  Take  warning,  now  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth.  O  James,  James,  thou  dost  not  pray  for  me. 
Death  is  dreadful  to  the  wicked.  O  the  sting  of  death 
to  a  guilty  conscience !"  Here  he  lifted  up  his 
ghastly  eyes  in  speechless  horror,  grasped  hard  at 
the  hand  of  James,  gave  a  deep,  hollow  groan,  and 
closed  his  eyes,  never  to  open  them  but  in  an  awful 
eternity. 

This  was  death  in  all  its  honors  !  The  gay  com- 
panions of  his  sinful  pleasures  could  not  stand  the 
sight ;  all  slank  away  like  guilty  thieves  from  their 
late  favorite  friend  ;  no  one  was  left  to  assist  him  but 
his  two  apprentices.  Brown  was  not  so  hardened 
but  that  he  shed  many  tears  for  his  unhappy  master, 
and  even  made  some  hasty  resolutions  of  amendment, 
which  were  too  soon  forgotten. 

While  Brown  stepped  home  to  call  the  workmen 
to  come  and  assist  in  removing  their  poor  master, 


THK    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  8\ 

James  stayed  alone  with  the  corpse,  and  employed 
those  awful  moments  in  indulging  the  most  serious 
thoughts,  and  praying  heartily  to  God  that  so  terrible 
a  lesson  might  not  be  thrown  away  upon  him,  but 
that  he  might  be  enabled  to  live  in  a  constant  state 
of  preparation  for  death.  The  resolutions  he  made 
at  this  moment,  as  they  were  not  made  in  his  own 
strength,  but  in  an  humble  reliance  on  God's  gra- 
cious help,  were  of  use  to  him  as  long  as  he  lived, 
and  if  ever  he  was  for  a  moment  tempted  to  say  or 
do  a  wrong  thing,  the  remembrance  of  his  poor  dy- 
ing master's  last  agonies,  and  the  dreadful  words  he 
uttered,  always  operated  as  an  instant  check  upon 
him. 

When  Williams  was  buried,  and  his  affairs  came 
to  be  inquired  into,  they  were  found  to  be  in  a  sad 
condition.  His  wife,  indeed,  was  the  less  to  be  pitied, 
as  she  had  contributed  her  full  share  to  the  common 
ruin.  James,  however,  did  pity  her,  and  by  his 
skill  in  accounts,  his  known  honesty,  and  the  trust 
the  creditors  put  in  his  word,  things  came  to  be  set- 
tled rather  belter  than  Mrs.  Williams  expected. 

Both  Brown  and  James  were  now  within  a  month 
or  two  of  being  out  of  their  time.  The  creditors, 
as  was  said  before,  employed  James  to  settle  his  late 
master's  accounts,  which  he  did  in  a  manner  so  cred- 
itable to  his  abilities  and  his  honesty,  that  they  pro- 
posed to  him  to  take  the  shop  himself.  He  assured 
them  it  was  utterly  out  of  his  power  for  want  of 
money.  As  the  creditors  had  not  the  least  fear  ot 
being  repaid,  if  it  should  please  God  to  spare  his  life, 
they  generously  agreed  among  themselves  to  advance 
lim  a  small  sum  of  money  witkout  any  security  but 
his  bond  ;  for  this  he  was  to  pay  a  very  reasonable 
uUerest,  and  to  return  the  whole  in  a  given  rmmber 
of  years.  James  shed  tears  of  gratitude  at  this  tes- 
timony to  his  character,  and  could  hardly  be  prevail- 
ed on  to  accept  their  kindness,  so  great  was  his  drea 
of  being  in  debt. 


82  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIKS. 

He  took  the  remainder  of  tlie  lease  from  his  mis 
tress,  and  in  settling  affairs  with  her,  took  care  to 
make  eveiything  as  advantageoiis  to  her  as  possible. 
He  never  once  allowed  himself  to  think  how  unkind 
she  had  been  to  him ;  he  only  saw  in  her  the  needy 
widow  of  his  deceased  master,  and  the  distressed 
mother  of  an  infant  family,  and  was  heartily  sorry  it 
was  not  in  his  power  to  contribute  to  their  support ; 
it  was  not  only  James's  duty,  but  his  delight,  to  re- 
turn good  for  evil,  for  he  was  a  Christian. 

James  Stock  was  now,  by  the  blessing  of  God  on 
his  own  earnest  endeavors,  master  of  a  considerable 
shop,  and  was  respected  oy  the  whole  town  for  his 
prudence,  honesty,  and  piety.  Other  apprentices 
will  do  well  to  follow  so  praiseworthy  an  example, 
and  to  remember,  that  the  respectable  master  of  a 
large  shop,  and  of  a  profitable  business,  was  raised  to 
that  creditable  situation  without  money,  friends,  or 
connexions,  from  the  low  beginning  of  a  parish  ap- 
prentice, by  sobriety,  industry,  the  fear  of  God,  and 
an  obedience  to  the  divine  principles  of  the  Christian 
religion. 

The  Apprentice  turned  Master. 

This  sudden  prosperity  was  a  time  of  trial  for 
James,  for  we  hardly  know  what  we  are  ourselves  till 
we  become  our  own  masters.  There  is,  indeed,  al- 
ways a  reasonable  hope  that  a  good  servant  will  not 
make  a  bad  master,  and  that  a  faithful  apprentice  will 
prove  an  honest  tradesman.  But  the  heart  of  man  is 
deceitful,  and  some  folks  who  seem  to  behave  very 
well  while  they  are  under  subjection,  no  sooner  get 
a  little  power  than  their  heads  are  turned,  and  they 
grow  prouder  than  those  who  are  gentlemen  born. 
They  forget  at  once  that  they  were  lately  poor  and 
dependant  themselves,  so  that  one  would  think  that 
with  their  poverty  they  had  lost  their  memory  too. 
I  have  known  some  who  had  suffered  most  hardships 
in  their  early  days,   become  the  most  hard  and  op- 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  83 

pressive  in  their  turn,  so  that  they  seem  to  forget 
that  fine  considerate  reason  which  God  gives  to  the 
children  of  Israel  why  they  should  be  merciful  to 
their  servants,  remembering,  said  he,  that  thou  thyselj 
was  a  hondman. 

Young  Mr.  Stock  did  not  so  forget  himself.  He 
had,  indeed,  the  only  sure  guard  from  falling  into 
this  error.  It  was  not  from  any  uneasiness  in  his 
natural  disposition,  for  that  only  just  serves  to  make 
folks  good-natured  when  they  are  pleased,  and  patient 
when  they  have  nothing  to  vex  them.  James  went 
upon  higher  ground.  He  brought  his  religion  into 
all  his  actions  ;  he  did  not  give  way  to  abusive  lan- 
guage because  he  knew  it  was  a  sin.  He  did  not 
use  his  apprentices  ill  because  he  knew  he  had  him- 
self a  Master  in  heaven. 

He  knew  he  owed  his  present  happy  situation  to 
the  kindness  of  the  creditors.  But  did  he  grow  easy 
and  careless  because  he  knew  he  had  such  friends  ? 
No  indeed.  He  worked  with  double  diligence  in 
order  to  get  out  of  debt,  and  to  let  these  friends  see 
he  did  not  abuse  their  kindness.  Such  behavior  as 
this  is  the  greatest  encouragement  in  the  world  to 
rich  people  to  lend  a  little  money.  It  creates  friends, 
and  it  keeps  them. 

His  shoes  and  boots  were  made  in  the  best  man- 
ner ;  this  got  him  business  ;  he  set  out  with  a  rule  to 
tell  no  lies,  and  deceive  no  customers  ;  this  secured 
his  business.  He  had  two  reasons  for  not  promising 
to  send  home  goods  when  he  knew  he  should  not  be 
able  to  keep  his  word.  The  first,  because  he  knew 
a  lie  was  a  sin,  the  next,  because  it  was  a  folly. 
There  is  no  credit  sooner  worn  out  than  that  which 
is  gained  by  false  pretences.  After  a  little  while  no 
one  is  deceived  by  them.  Falsehood  is  so  soon  de- 
tected, that  I  believe  most  tradesmen  are  the  poorer 
for  it  in  the  long  run.  Deceit  is  the  worst  part  of  a 
shopkeeper's  stock  in  trade. 

James  was  now  at  the  head  of  a  family.     "  This  is 


84  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

a  serious  situation,"  said  he  to  himself,  one  fine  sum- 
mer's evening,  as  he  stood  leaning  over  the  half  doot 
of  his  shop  to  enjoy  a  little  fresh  air,  "  I  am  now 
master  of  a  family.  My  cares  are  doubled,  and  so 
are  my  duties.  I  see  the  higher  one  gets  in  life  the 
more  one  has  to  answer  for.  Let  me  now  call  to 
mind  the  sorrow  I  used  to  feel  when  I  was  made  to 
cany  work  home  on  a  Sunday  by  an  imgodly  master, 
and  let  me  now  keep  the  resolution  I  then  formed." 

So  what  his  heart  found  right  to  do  he  resolved  to 
do  quickly,  and  he  set  out  at  first  as  he  meant  to  go 
on.  The  Sunday  was  truly  a  day  of  rest  at  Mr. 
Stock's.  He  would  not  allow  a  pair  of  shoes  to  be 
given  out  on  that  day  to  oblige  the  best  customer  he 
had.  And  what  did  he  lose  by  it  ?  Why,  nothing 
For  when  the  people  were  once  used  to  it  they  liked 
Saturday  night  just  as  well.  But  had  it  been  other- 
wise he  would  have  given  up  his  gains  to  his  con- 
science. 

Hoiv  Mr.  Stock  behaved  to  his  Apprentices. 

When  he  got  up  in  the  world  so  far  as  to  have  ap- 
prentices, he  thought  himself  as  accountable  for  their 
behavior  as  if  they  had  been  his  children.  He  was 
very  kind  to  them,  and  had  a  cheerful,  meriy  way  of 
talking  to  them,  so  that  the  lads,  who  had  seen  too 
much  of  swearing,  reprobate  masters,  were  fond  of 
him.  They  were  never  afraid  of  speaking  to  him  ; 
they  told  him  all  their  little  troubles,  and  considered 
their  master  as  their  best  friend,for  they  said  they  would 
do  anything  for  a  good  word  and  a  kind  look.  As  he 
did  not  swear  at  them  when  they  had  been  guilty  of 
a  fault,  they  did  not  lie  to  him  to  conceal  it,  and 
thereby  make  one  fault  two.  But  though  he  was 
very  kind  he  was  very  watchful  also,  for  he  did  not 
think  neglect  any  part  of  kindness.  He  brought 
them  to  adopt  one  very  pretty  method,  which  was, 
on  a  Sunday  evening  to  divert  themselves  with  wri- 
ting out  half  a  dozen  texts  of  Scripture. 


THE   TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  85 

When  the  boys  carried  him  their  books,  he  justly 
commended  him  whose  texts  were  written  in  the  fair- 
est hand.  "And  now,  my  boys,"  said  he,  "let  us 
see  which  of  you  will  learn  your  texts  best  in  the 
course  of  the  week ;  he  who  does  this  shall  choose 
for  next  Sunday."  Thus  the  boys  soon  got  many 
psalms  and  chapters  by  heart,  almost  without  know- 
ing how  they  came  by  them.  He  taught  them  how 
to  make  a  practical  use  of  what  they  learned,  "  for," 
said  he,  "  it  will  answer  little  purposes  to  learn  texts 
if  we  do  not  tiy  to  live  up  to  them."  One  ol  the 
boys  being  apt  to  play  in  his  absence,  and  to  run 
back  again  to  his  work  when  he  heard  his  master's, 
step,  he  brought  him  to  a  sense  of  his  fault  by  the 
last  Sunday's  text,  which  happened  to  be  the  sixth 
of  Ephesians.  He  showed  him  what  was  meant  by 
being  obedient  to  his  master  in  singleness  of  heart  as 
unto  Christ,  and  explained  to  him  with  so  much 
kindness  what  it  was  not  to  work  ivith  eye-service  as 
7nen-pleascrs,  but  doing  the  ivill  of  God  from  the  heart, 
that  the  lad  said  he  should  never  forget  it,  and  it  did 
more  toward  curing  him  of  idleness  than  the  sound- 
est horsewhipping  would  have  done. 

How  Mr.  Stock  got  out  of  Debt. 
Stock's  behavior  was  very  regular,  and  he  was 
much  beloved  for  his  kind  and  peaceable  temper. 
He  had  also  a  good  repiUation  for  skill  in  his  trade, 
and  his  industry  was  talked  of  through  the  whole 
town,  so  that  he  had  soon  more  work  than  he  could 
possibly  do.  He  paid  all  his  dealers  to  the  very 
day,  and  took  care  to  carry  his  interest  money  to  the 
creditors  the  moment  it  became  due.  In  two  or 
three  years  he  was  able  to  begin  to  pay  off  a  small 
part  of  the  principal.  His  reason  for  being  so  eager 
to  pay  money  as  soon  as  it  became  due,  was  this  : 
He  had  observed  tradesmen,  and  especially  his  old 
master,  put.  off  the  day  of  payment  as  long  as  they 
could,  even  though  thev  had  the  means  of  paying  in 


8G  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

their  power.  Thiy  deceived  them — for  having  money 
in  their  pockets  they  forgot  it  belonged  to  the  cred- 
itor and  not  to  themselves,  and  so  got  to  fancy  they 
were  rich  when  they  were  really  poor.  This  false 
notion  led  them  to  indulge  in  idle  expenses,  whereas, 
if  they  had  paid  regularly,  they  would  have  had  thia 
one  temptation  the  less.  A  young  tradesman,  when 
he  is  going  to  spend  money,  should  at  least  ask  him- 
self,  "  Whether  this  money  is  his  own  or  his  cred- 
itors' ?"  This  little  question  might  help  to  prevent 
many  a  bankruptcy. 

A  true  Christian  always  goes  heartily  to  work  to 
find  out  what  is  his  besetting  sin  ;  and  when  he  has 
found  it  (which  he  easily  may  if  he  looks  sharp), 
against  this  sin  he  watches  narrowly.  Now  I  know 
it  is  the  fashion  among  some  folks  (and  a  bad  fashion 
it  is),  to  fancy  that  good  people  have  no  sin  ;  but  this 
only  shows  their  ignorance.  It  is  not  true.  That 
good  man,  Paul,  knew  better  (Romans  vii.).  And 
when  men  do  not  own  their  sins,  it  is  not  because 
there  is  no  sin  in  their  hearts,  but  because  they  are 
not  anxious  to  search  for  it,  nor  humble  to  confess  it, 
nor  penitent  to  mourn  over  it.  But  this  was  not  the 
case  with  James  Stock.  "Examine  yourselves  truly," 
said  he,  "  is  no  bad  part  of  the  catechism."  He  be- 
gan to  be  afraid  that  his  desire  of  living  creditably,  and 
without  being  a  burden  to  any  one,  might,  under  the 
mask  of  honesty  and  independence,  lead  him  into 
pride  and  covetousness.  He  feared  that  the  bias  of 
his  heart  lay  that  way.  So  instead  of  being  proud 
of  his  sobriety;  instead  of  bragging  that  he  never 
spent  his  money  idly,  nor  went  to  the  alehouse  ;  in- 
stead of  boasting  how  hard  he  worked  and  how  he 
denicG  himself,  he  strove  in  secret  that  even  these  good 
qualities  might  not  grow  out  of  a  wrong  root.  Tlie 
following  event  was  of  use  to  him  in  the  way  ol  in- 
dulging any  disposition  to  covetousness. 

One  evening  as  he  was  standing  at  the  door  of  his 
shop,  a  poor  dirty  boy,  without  stockings  and  shoes, 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  87 

came  v:p  and  asked  him  for  a  bit  of  broken  victuals, 
for  he  had  eaten  nothing  all  day.  In  spite  of  his  dirt 
and  rags,  he  was  a  very  pretty,  lively,  civil-spoken 
boy,  and  Mr.  Stock  could  not  help  thinking  he  knew 
something  of  his  face.  He  fetched  him  out  a  good 
piece  of  bread  and  cheese,  and  while  he  was  devour- 
ing it,  asked  him  if  he  had  no  parents,  and  why  he 
went  about  in  that  vagabond  manner.  "  Daddy  has 
been  dead  some  years,"  said  the  boy;  "  he  died  in  a 
fit  over  at  the  Grayhound.  Mammy  says  he  used  to 
live  at  this  shop,  and  then  we  did  not  want  for  clothes 
nor  victuals  neither."  Stock  was  melted  alinost  to 
tears  on  finding  that  this  dirty  beggar-boy  was  Tommy 
Williams,  the  son  of  his  old  master.  He  blessed  God 
on  comparing  his  own  happy  condition  with  that  of 
this  poor  destitute  child,  but  he  was  not  prouder  at 
the  comparison,  and  while  he  was  thankful  for  his 
own  prosperity,  he  pitied  the  helpless  boy.  "  Where 
have  you  been  living  of  late  ?"  said  he  to  him;  "for 
I  understand  you  all  went  home  to  your  mother's 
friends." — "  So  we  did,  sir,"  said  the  boy;  "but  they 
are  grown  tired  of  maintaining  us,  because  they  said 
that  mammy  spent  all  the  money  which  should  have 
gone  to  buy  victuals  for  us,  on  snuff  and  drams ;  and 
so  they  have  sent  us  back  to  this  place,  which  is 
daddy's  parish." 

"  And  where  do  you  live  here  ?"  said  Mr.  Stock. 
"  O  sir,  we  are  all  put  into  the  parish  poorhouse." — 
"  .\nd  docs  your  mother  do  anything  to  help  to  main- 
tain you  ?" — "  No,  sir,  for  mammy  says  she  was  not 
brought  up  to  work  like  poor  folks,  and  she  would 
rather  starve  than  spin  or  knit ;  so  she  lies  a-bed  all 
the  morning,  and  sends  us  about  to  pick  up  what  We 
can,  a  bit  of  victuals  or  a  few  halfpence." — "  And  have 
you  any  money  in  your  pocket  now  ?" — "  Yes,  sir,  1 
have  got  three  halfpence  which  I  have  begged  to-day." 
"  Then,  as  you  were  so  very  hungry,  how  came  you 
not  to  buy  a  roll  at  that  baker's  over  the  way  ?"— • 
"Because,  sir,  I  was  going  to  lay  it  out  in  tea  foi 


88  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

mammy,  for  I  never  lay  out  a  farthing  for  myself.  Id 
deed,  mammy  says  she  icill  have  her  tea  twice  a  day, 
if  we  beg  or  starve  for  it." — "  Can  you  read,  my  boy," 
said  Mr.  Stock.  "  A  little,  sir,  and  say  my  prayers 
too."' — "And  can  you  say  your  catechism?"  —  "I 
have  almost  forgotten  it  all,  sir,  though  I  remember 
something  about  honoring  my  father  and  mother,  and 
that  makes  me  still  carry  the  halfpence  home  to  mam- 
my instead  of  buying  cakes." — "  Who  taught  you 
these  good  things?" — "One  Jemmy  Stock,  sir,  who 
was  a  parish  'prentice  to  my  daddy.  He  taught  me 
one  question  out  of  the  catechism  every  night,_and 
always  made  me  say  my  prayers  to  him  before  I  went 
to  bed.  He  told  me  I  should  go  to  the  wicked  place 
if  I  did  not  fear  God,  so  I  am  still  afraid  to  tell  lies 
like  the  other  boys.  Poor  Jemmy  gave  me  a  piece 
of  gingerbread  every  time  I  learnt  well  ;  but  I  have 
no  friend  now  ;  Jemmy  was  very  good  to  me,  though 
mammy  did  nothing  but  beat  him." 

3Ir.  Stock  was  too  much  moved  to  carry  on  the 
discourse.  He  did  not  make  himself  known  to  the 
boy,  but  took  him  over  to  the  baker's  shop.  As  they 
walked  along,  he  could  not  help  repeating  aloud  that 
beautiful  hymn,  so  deservedly  the  favorite  of  all  chil- 
dren : 

"  Not  more  than  others  I  deserve, 
Yet  God  has  given  me  more  ; 
For  I  hare  food  while  others  starve, 
Or  beg  frcm  door  to  door." 

The  little  boy  looked  up  in  his  face,  saying,  "  Why, 
sir,  that's  the  very  hymn  which  Jemmy  Stock  gave 
me  a  penny  for  learning."  Stock  made  no  answer, 
but  put  a  couple  of  threepenny  loaves  into  his  hand 
to  carry  home,  and  told  him  to  call  on  him  again. 

How  Mr.  Slock  contrived  to  be  charitable  without  any 
expense. 
Stock  had  abundant   subject  for   meditation   that 
eight.     He  was  puzzled  what  to  do  with  the  boy 


THE   TWO   SHOEMAKERS.  89 

While  he  was  carrying  on  his  trade  upon  borrowed 
money,  he  did  not  think  it  riglit  to  give  any  part  of 
that  money  to  assist  the  idle,  or  even  to  help  the  dis- 
tressed. "  I  must  be  just,"  said  he,  "  before  I  am 
generous."  Still  he  could  not  bear  to  see  this  fine 
boy  given  up  to  a  certain  ruin.  He  did  not  think  it 
safe  to  take  him  into  his  shop  in  his  present  ignorant, 
unprincipled  state.  At  last  he  hit  upon  this  thought: 
"  I  work  for  myself  twelve  hours  in  the  day.  Why 
shall  I  not  work  one  hour  or  two  for  this  boy  in  the 
evening  ?  It  will  be  but  for  a  year,  and  I  shall  then 
have  more  right  to  do  what  I  please.  My  money 
will  then  be  my  own  ;  I  shall  have  paid  my  debts." 

So  he  began  to  put  his  resolution  in  practice  that 
very  night,  sticking  to  his  old  notion  of  not  putting  olf 
till  to-morrow  what  should  be  done  to-day;  and  it 
was  thought  he  owed  much  of  his  success  in  life,  as 
well  as  his  growth  in  goodness,  to  this  little  saying  : 
"I  am  young  and  healthy,"  said  he;  "one  hour's 
work  more  will  do  me  no  harm  ;  I  will  set  aside  all 
I  get  by  these  overhours,  and  put  the  boy  to  school. 
I  have  not  only  no  right  to  punish  this  child  for  the 
sins  of  his  father,  but  I  consider  that  though  God  ha- 
ted those  sins,  he  has  made  them  to  be  instrumental 
to  my  advancement." 

Tommy  Williams  called  at  the  time  appointed.  In 
the  meantime,  INIr.  Stock's  maid  had  made  him  a 
neat  little  suit  of  clothes  out  of  an  old  coat  of  her 
master's.  She  had  also  knit  him  a  pair  of  stockings, 
and  Mr.  Stock  made  him  sit  down  in  the  shop,  while 
he  fitted  him  with  a  pair  of  new  shoes.  The  maid 
having  washed  and  dressed  him,  Mr.  Stock  took  hira 
by  the  hand,  and  walked  along  with  him  to  the  parish 
poorhouse  to  find  his  mother.  They  found  her  dressed 
in  ragged,  filthy  finery,  standing  at  the  door,  where 
she  passed  most  of  her  time,  quarrelling  with  half  a 
dozen  women  as  idle  and  dirty  as  herself.  When  she 
saw  Tommy  so  neat  and  well  dressed,  she  fell  a-crying 
for  joy.     She  said  "  It  put  her  in  mind  of  old  times; 


90  DOMESTIC    TALES    A>'D   ALLEG0R1K3. 

for  Tommy  always  used  to  be  dressed  like  a  gentle- 
man."— "  So  much  the  worse,"  said  Mr.  Stock  ;  "  if 
you  had  not  begun  by  making  him  look  like  a  gentle- 
man, you  needed  not  have  ended  by  making  him  look 
like  a  beggar." — "  Oh  Jem  !"  said  she,  for  though  it 
was  four  years  since  she  had  seen  him,  she  soon  rec- 
ollected him ;  "  fine  times  for  yc  a  '  set  a  beggar  on 
horseback — you  know  the  proverb.  1  shall  beat 
Tommy  well  for  finding  you  out,  and  exposing  me  to 
you." 

Instead  of  entering  into  any  dispute  with  this  bad 
woman,  or  praising  himself  at  her  expense  ;  instead 
of  putting  her  in  mind  of  her  past  ill  behavior  to  him, 
or  reproaching  her  with  the  bad  use  she  had  made  of 
her  prosperity,  he  mildly  said  to  her,  "  Mrs.  Williams, 
I  am  Sony  for  your  misfortunes  ;  I  am  come  to  re- 
lieve you  of  part  of  your  burden.  I  will  take  Tommy 
ofi"  yotir  hands.  I  will  give  him  a  year's  board  and 
schooling,  and  by  that  time  I  shall  see  what  he  is  fit 
for.  I  will  promise  nothing,  but  if  the  boy  tixrns  out 
well,  I  will  never  forsake  him.  I  shall  make  but  one 
bargain  with  you,  which  is,  that  he  must  not  come 
to  this  place  to  hear  all  this  railing  and  swearing,  nor 
shall  he  keep  company  with  these  pilfering  idle  chil- 
dren. You  are  welcome  to  go  and  see  him  when 
you  please,  but  here  he  must  not  come." 

The  foolish  woman  burst  out  a-crying,  saying, 
"she  should  lose  her  poor  dear  Tommy  for  ever. 
Mr.  Stock  might  give  her  the  money  he  intended  to 
pay  at  the  school,  for  nobody  could  do  so  well  by  him 
as  his  own  mother."  The  truth  was,  she  wanted  to 
get  these  new  clothes  into  her  clutches,  which  would 
all  have  been  pawned  at  the  dram-shop  before  the 
week  was  out.  This  Mr.  Stock  well  knew.  From 
crying  she  fell  to  scolding  and  swearing.  She  told 
him  he  was  an  unnatural  wretch,  that  wanted  to  make 
a  child  despise  his  own  mother  because  she  was  poor. 
She  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  she  would  not  part 
from  him  ;  she  said  she  hated  your  godly  people,  thej^ 


THE    TWO    SHOE».AKERS  91 

had  no  bowels  of  compassion,  but  tried  to  set  men, 
women,  and  children,  against  their  own  flesh  and 
blood. 

Mr.  Stock  now  almost  lost  his  patience,  and  for  one 
moment  a  thought  came  across  him,  to  strip  the  boy, 
carry  back  the  clothes,  and  leave  him  to  his  unnatural 
mother.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  should  I  work  over- 
hours,  and  wear  out  my  strength  for  this  wicked 
woman?"  But  soon  he  checked  his  thought,  by 
reflecting  on  the  patience  and  long-suflering  of  God 
with  rebellious  sinners.  This  cured  his  anger  in  a 
moment,  and  he  mildly  reasoned  with  heron  the  folly 
and  blindness  in  opposing  the  good  of  her  child. 

One  of  the  neighbors  who  stood  bj^  said,  "  What  a 
flne  thing  it  was  for  the  boy !  but  some  people  were 
born  to  be  lucky.  She  wished  Mr.  Stock  would  take 
a  fancy  to  her  child,  he  should  have  him  soon  enough." 
Mrs.  Williams  now  began  to  be  frightened  lest  Mr. 
Stock  should  take  the  woman  at  her  word,  and  sul- 
lenly consented  to  let  the  boy  go,  from  envy  and 
malice,  not  from  prudence  and  gratitude  ;  and  Tom- 
my was  sent  to  school  that  very  night,  his  mother 
crying  and  roaring,  instead  of  thanking  God  for  such 
a  blessing. 

Here  I  can  not  forbear  telling  a  very  good-natured 
thing  of  Will  Simpson,  one  of  the  workmen.  By-the- 
by,  it  was  that  very  young  fellow  who  was  reformed 
by  Stock's  good  example,  when  he  was  an  apprentice, 
and  who  used  to  sing  psalms  with  him  on  a  Sunday 
evening,  when  they  got  out  of  the  way  of  Williams's 
junketing.  Will  conning  home  early  one  evening, 
was  surprised  to  find  his  master  at  work  by  himself, 
long  after  the  usual  time.  He  begged  so  heartily  to 
know  the  reason,  that  Stock  owned  the  truth.  Will 
was  so  struck  with  this  piece  of  kindness,  that  he 
snatched  up  a  last,  crj'ing  out,  "  Well,  master,  you 
shall  not  work  by  yourself,  however ;  we  will  go 
snacks  in  maintaining  Tommy:  it  shall  never  be  said 
that  Will  Simpson  was  idling  about  when  his  master 


92  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    AILEGORIES. 

was  working  for  charity."  This  made  the  hour  pass 
cheerfully,  and  doubled  the  profits. 

In  a  year  or  two,  Mr.  Stock,  by  God's  blessing  on 
his  labors,  became  quite  clear  of  the  world.  He  now 
paid  off  his  creditors,  but  he  never  forgot  his  obliga- 
tion to  them,  and  found  many  opportunities  of  show- 
ing kindness  to  them,  and  to  their  children  after  them. 
He  now  cast  about  for  a  proper  wife,  and  as  he  was 
thought  a  prosperous  man,  and  was  very  well  looking 
besides,  most  of  the  smart  girls  of  the  place,  with 
their  tawdiy  finery,  used  to  be  often  parading  before 
the  shop,  and  would  even  go  to  chu  ch  in  order  to 
put  themselves  in  his  way.  But  Mr.  Stock,  wben  he 
went  to  church,  had  other  things  in  his  head ;  and  if 
ever  he  thought  about  these  gay  damsels  at  all,  it  was 
with  concern  in  seeing  them  so  improperly  tricked 
out,  so  that  the  very  means  they  took  to  please  him. 
made  him  dislike  them. 

There  was  one  Betsy  West,  a  young  woman  of 
excellent  character,  and  very  modest  appearance. 
He  had  seldom  seen  her  out,  as  she  was  employed 
night  and  day  in  waiting  on  an  aged  widowed  mother, 
who  was  both  lame  and  blind.  This  good  girl  was 
indeed  almost  literally  eyes  and  feet  to  her  helpless 
parent,  and  Mr.  Stock  used  to  ee  her,  through  the 
little  casement  window,  lifting  her  up,  and  feeding 
with  a  tenderness  which  greatly  raised  his  esteem  for 
her.  He  used  to  tell  Will  Simpson,  as  they  sat  at 
work,  that  such  a  dutiful  daughter  could  hardly  help 
to  make  a  faithful  wife.  He  had  not,  however,  the 
heart  to  tiy  to  draw  her  off  from  her  care  of  her  sick 
mother.  The  poor  woman  declined  very  fast.  Bet- 
sy was  much  employed  in  reading  or  praying  by  her, 
while  she  was  awake,  and  passed  a  good  part  of  the 
night  while  she  slept,  in  doing  some  fine  works  to 
sell,  in  order  to  supply  her  sick  mother  with  little 
delicacies  which  their  poor  pittance  could  not  afford, 
while  she  herself  lived  on  a  crust. 

Mr.  Stock  knew  that  Betsy  would   have  little  02 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  93 

nothing  after  her  mother's  death,  as  she  had  only  a 
hfe  income.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Thompson,  the 
tanner,  had  offered  him  two  hundred  pounds  with  his 
daughter  Nancy ;  but  he  was  ahnost  sorry  that  he 
had  not  in  this  case  an  opportunity  of  resisting  his 
natural  bias,  which  rather  lay  on  the  side  of  loving 
money  :  "  For,"  said  he,  "  putting  principle  and  put- 
ting affection  out  of  the  question,  I  shall  do  a  more 
prudent  thing  by  manying  Betsy  West,  who  will 
conform  to  her  station,  and  is  a  religious,  humble,  in- 
dustrious girl,  without  a  shilling,  than  by  having  an 
idle  dressy  lass,  who  will  neglect  my  family  and  fill 
my  house  with  company,  though  she  should  have 
twice  the  fortune  which  Nancy  Thompson  would 
bring." 

At  length  poor  old  Mrs.  West  was  released  from 
all  her  sufferings.  At  a  proper  time  Mr.  Stock  pro- 
posed marriage  to  Betsy,  and  was  accepted.  All  the 
disappointed  girls  in  the  town  wondered  what  any- 
body could  like  in  such  a  dowdy  as  that.  Had  the 
man  no  eyes  ?  They  thought  Mr.  Stock  had  had 
more  taste.  Oh!  how  did  it  provoke  all  the  vain  idle 
things  to  find  that  staying  at  home,  dressing  plainly, 
sen'ing  God,  and  nursing  a  blind  mother,  should  do 
that  for  Betsy  West,  which  all  their  contrivances, 
flaunting,  and  dancing,  could  not  do  for  them. 

He  was  not  disappointed  in  his  hope  of  meeting 
with  a  good  wife  in  Betsy,  as  indeed  those  who  marry 
on  right  grounds  seldom  are.  But  if  religious  per- 
sons will,  for  the  sake  of  money,  choose  partners  for 
life  who  have  no  religion,  do  not  let  them  complain 
that  they  are  unhappy  ;  they  might  liave  known  that 
beforehand. 

Tommy  Williams  was  now  taken  home  to  Stock's 
house  and  bound  apprentice.  He  was  always  kind 
and  attentive  to  his  mother;  and  every  penny  which 
Will  Simpson  or  his  master  gave  him  for  learning  a 
chapter,  he  would  save  to  buy  a  bit  of  tea  and  sugar 
for  her.     When  the  other  boys  laughed  at  him  fo 


94  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

being  so  foolish  as  to  deny  himself  cakes  and  apples 
to  give  his  money  to  her  who  was  so  bsd  a  woman, 
he  would  answer,  "  It  may  be  so,  but  she  is  my 
mother  for  all  that." 

Mr.  Stock  was  much  moved  at  the  change  in  this 
boy,  who  turned  out  a  veiy  good  youth.  He  resolved, 
as  God  should  prosper  him,  that  he  would  try  to 
snatch  other  helpless  creatures  from  sin  and  ruin. 
"  For,"  said  he,  "  it  is  owing  to  God's  blessing  on  the 
instructions  of  my  good  minister  when  I  was  a  child, 
that  I  have  been  saved  from  the  broaJ  way  of  de- 
struction." He  still  gave  God  the  glory  of  eveiything 
he  did  aright :  and  when  Will  Simpson  one  day  said 
t:  him,  "  Master,  I  wish  I  were  half  as  good  rs  you 
are ;"  "  Hold,  William,"  answered  he  gravely,  "  I 
once  read  in  a  book,  that  the  devil  is  willing  enough 
we  should  appear  to  do  good  actions,  if  he  can  but 
make  us  proud  of  them." 

The  frolics  of  idle  Jack  Brown. 

You  shall  now  hear  what  befell  idle  Jack  Brown, 
who,  being  a  farmer's  son,  had  many  advantages  to 
begin  life  with.  But  he  who  wants  prudence  may  be 
said  to  want  everything,  because  he  turns  all  his  ad- 
vantages to  no  account. 

Jack  Brown  was  just  out  of  his  time  when  his 
master  Williams  died  in  that  terrible  drunken  fit  at 
the  Grayhound.  You  know  already  how  Stock  suc- 
ceeded to  his  master's  business,  and  prospered  in  it. 
Jack  wished  very  much  to  enter  into  partnership 
with  him.  His  father  and  mother  too  were  desirous 
of  it,  and  offered  to  advance  a  hundred  pounds  with 
him.  Here  is  a  fresh  proof  of  the  power  of  charac- 
ter !  The  old  farmer,  with  all  his  covetousness,  was 
eager  to  get  his  son  into  partnership  with  Stock, 
though  the  latter  was  not  worth  a  shilling  ;  and  even 
Jack's  mother,  with  all  her  pride,  was  eager  for  it, 
for  they  had  both  sense  enough  to  see  it  would  be 
the  making   of  Jack.     The  father  knew  that  Stock 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  95 

would  look  to  the  main  chance  :  and  the  mother  that 
he  would  take  the  laboring  oar,  and  so  her  darling 
would  have  little  to  do.  The  ruling  passion  operated 
in  both.  One  parent  wished  to  secure  to  the  son  a 
life  of  pleasure,  the  other  a  profitable  trade.  Both 
were  equally  indifferent  to  whatever  related  to  his 
eternal  good. 

Stock,  however,  young  as  he  was,  was  too  old  a 
bird  to  be  caught  with  chaff.  His  wisdom  was  an 
overmatch  for  their  cunning.  He  had  a  kindness  for 
Brown,  but  would  on  no  account  enter  into  business 
with  him. — "  One  of  these  three  things,"  said  he,  "I 
am  sure  will  happen  if  I  do ;  he  will  either  hurt  mj 
principles,  my  character,  or  my  trade ;  perhaps  all." 
And  here  let  me  drop  a  hint  to  young  men  who  are 
about  to  enter  into  partnership.  Let  them  not  do 
that  in  haste  which  they  may  repent  at  leisure.  Next 
to  marriage  it  is  a  tie  the  hardest  to  break  ;  and  next 
to  that  it  is  an  engagement  which  ought  to  be  entered 
into  with  the  most  caution.  Many  things  go  to  the 
making  such  a  connexion  suitable,  safe,  and  pleasant. 
There  is  many  a  rich  merchant  need  not  be  above 
taking  a  hint  in  this  respect,  from  James  Stock,  the 
shoemaker. 

Brown  was  still  unwilling  to  part  from  him  ;  indeed 
he  was  too  idle  to  look  out  for  business,  so  he  offered 
Stock  to  work  with  him  as  a  journeyman,  but  this  he 
also  mildly  refused.  It  hurt  his  good-nature  to  do 
so  ;  but  he  reflected  that  a  young  man  who  has  his 
way  to  make  in  the  world  must  not  only  be  good- 
natured,  he  must  be  prudent  also.  "  I  am  resolved," 
said  he,  "to  employ  none  but  the  most  sober,  regu- 
lar young  men  I  can  get.  Evil  communications  cor- 
rupt good  manners,  and  I  should  be  answerable  for 
all  the  disorders  of  my  house,  if  I  knowingly  took  a 
wild  drinking  young  fellow  into  it.  That  which 
might  be  kindness  to  one  would  be  injustice  to  many, 
and  therefore  a  sin  in  myself." 

Brown's  mother  was   in  a  great  rage   when  sh« 


96  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND   ALLEGORIES. 

heard  that  her  son  had  stooped  so  low  as  to  make  this 
offer.  She  valued  herself  on  being  proud,  for  she 
thought  pride  was  a  grand  thing.  Poor  woman . 
She  did  not  know  that  it  is  the  meanest  thing  in  the 
world.  It  was  her  ignorance  which  made  her  proud, 
as  is  apt  to  be  the  case. — "  You  mean-spirited  rascal," 
said  she  to  Jack,  "I  had  rather  follow  you  to  your 
grave,  as  well  as  I  love  you,  than  see  you  disgrace 
your  family  by  working  under  Jem  Stock,  the  parish- 
apprentice."  She  forgot  already  what  pains  she  had 
taken  about  the  partnership,  but  pride  and  passion 
have  bad  memories. 

It  is  hard  to  say  which  was  now  uppermost  in  hei 
mind,  her  desire  to  be  revenged  on  Stock,  or  to  see 
her  son  make  a  figure.  She  raised  every  shilling  she* 
could  get  from  her  husband,  and  all  she  cr^uld  crit 
from  the  dairy  to  set  up  Jack  in  a  showy  way.  So 
the  very  next  market  day  she  came  herself,  and  took 
for  him  the  new  white  house,  with  the  two  sash 
windows  painted  blue,  and  blue  posts  before  the  door. 
It  is  that  house  which  has  the  old  cross  just  before  it, 
as  you  turn  down  between  the  church  and  the  Gray- 
hound.  Its  being  so  near  the  church  to  be  sure  was 
no  recommendation  to  Jack,  but  its  being  so  near  the 
Grayhound  was,  and  so  taking  one  thing  with  the 
other,  it  was  to  be  sure  no  bad  situation ;  but  what 
weighed  most  with  the  mother  was,  that  it  was  a 
much  more  showy  shop  than  Stock's  ;  and  the  house, 
though  not  half  so  convenient,  was  far  more  smart. 

In  order  to  draw  custom,  his  foolish  mother  ad- 
vised him  to  undersell  his  neighbors  just  at  first ;  to 
buy  ordinary  but  showy  goods,  and  to  employ  cheap 
workmen.  In  short  she  charged  him  to  leave  no 
stone  unturned  to  ruin  his  old  comrade  Stock.  In- 
deed she  always  thought  with  double  satisfaction  of 
Jack's  prosperity,  because  she  always  joined  to  it  the 
hope  that  his  success  would  be  the  ruin  of  Stock,  for 
Bhe  owned  it  would  be  the  joy  of  her  heart  to  bring 
that  proud  upstart  to   a  morsel  of  bread.     She  did 


THE    TWO   SHOEMAKERS.  99 

not  understand,  for  her  part,  why  such  beggars  must 
become  tradesmen. 

Stock,  however,  set  out  on  quite  another  set  of 
principles.  He  did  not  allow  himself  to  square  his 
own  behavior  to  others  by  theirs  to  him.  He  seldom 
Bsked  himself  what  he  should  like  to  do  :  but  he  had 
a  mighty  way  of  saying,  I  wonder  now  what  is  my 
duty  to  do  ? — And  when  he  was  once  clear  in  that 
matter  he  generally  did  it,  always  begging  God's 
blessing  and  direction.  So  instead  of  setting  Brown 
at  defiance;  instead  of  all  that  vulgar  selfishness  of 
catch-he  that  catch-can — and  two  of  a  trade  can  never 
agree— he  resolved  to  be  friendly  toward  him.  In- 
stead of  joining  in  the  laugh  against  Brown  for  ma- 
king his  house  so  fine,  he  was  sorry  for  him,  because 
he  feared  he  would  never  be  able  to  pay  such  a  rent. 
He  very  kindly  called  upon  him,  told  him  there  was 
business  enough  for  them  both,  and  gave  him  many 
useful  hints  for  his  going  on.  He  warned  him  to 
go  oftener  to  church  and  seldomer  to  the  Grayhoimd  : 
put  him  in  mind  how  following  the  one  and  forsaking 
the  other  had  been  the  ia.in  of  their  poor  master,  and 
added  the  following  advice  to  young  tradesmen : — 

Buy  the  best  goods ;  cut  die  ivork  out  yourself;  lei 
the  eye  of  the  master  he  everywhere  ;  employ  the  spher^ 
est  men  ;  avoid  all  the  low  deceits  of  trade  ;  never 
lower  the  credit  of  another  to  raise  your  own  ;  make 
sliort  payments  ;  keep)  exact  accounts  ;  avoid  idle  com- 
pany, and  he  very  strict  to  your  word. 

For  a  short  time  things  went  on  swimmingly. 
Brown  was  merry  and  civil.  The  shop  was  well 
situated  for  gossip  ;  and  every  one  who  had  som3- 
thing  to  say,  and  nothing  to  do,  was  welcome.  Every 
idle  story  was  first  spread,  and  every  idle  song  first 
sung  in  Brown's  shop.  Every  customer  who  came 
to  be  measured  was  promised  that  his  slioes  should 
be  done  first.  But  the  misfortune  was,  if  twenty 
came  itj  a  day  tlie  same  promise  was  made  to  all ;  8d 
9 


95  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND   ALLEGORIES. 

that  nineteen  were  disappointed,  and  of  course  af 
fronted.  He  never  said  no  to  any  one.  It  is  indeed 
a  word  which  it  requires  some  honesty  to  pronounce. 
By  all  these  false  promises  he  was  thought  the  most 
obliging  fellow  that  ever  made  a  shoe.  And  as  he  set 
out  on  the  principle  of  underselling,  people  took  a 
mighty  fancy  to  the  cheap  shop.  And  it  was  agreed 
among  all  the  young  and  giddy,  that  he  would  beat 
Stock  hollow,  and  that  the  old  shop  would  soon  be 
knocked  up. 

All  is  not  gold  that  glistens. 

After  a  few  months,  however,  folks  began  to  be  not 
quite  so  fond  of  the  cheap  shop  ;  one  found  out  that 
the  leather  was  bad,  another  that  the  work  was  slight. 
Those  who  liked  substantial  goods  went  all  of  them 
to  Stock's,  for  they  said  Brown's  heel  taps  did  not 
last  a  week  ;  his  new  boots  let  in  water,  and  they 
believed  he  made  his  soles  of  brown  paper.  Besides, 
it  was  thought  by  most  that  this  promising  all,  and 
keeping  his  word  with  none,  hurt  his  business  as 
much  as  anything.  Indeed,  I  question,  putting  re- 
ligion out  of  the  question,  if  lying  ever  answers,  even 
in  a  political  view. 

Brown  had  what  is  commonly  called  a- good  heart, 
that  is,  he  had  a  thoughtless  good  nature,  and  a  sort 
of  feeling  for  the  moment  which  made  him  veiy  sor- 
ry when  others  were  in  trouble.  But  he  was  not 
apt  to  put  himself  to  any  inconvenience,  nor  go  a  step 
out  of  his  way,  nor  give  up  any  pleasure  to  sei-ve  the 
best  friend  he  had.  He  loved  fun  ;  and  those  who  do 
should  always  see  that  it  be  harmless,  and  that  they 
do  not  give  up  more  for  it  than  it  is  worth.  I  am 
not  going  to  say  a  word  against  innocent  merriment. 
I  like  it  myself.  But  what  the  proverb  says  of  gold, 
may  be  said  of  mirth — it  may  be  bought  too  dear.  If 
a  young  man  finds  that  what  he  fancies  is  a  good  joke 
may  possibly  offend  God,  hurt  his  neighbor,  aiBict 
bis  parent,  or  make  a  modest  girl  blush,  let  him  then 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  99 

be  assured  it  is  not  fun,  but  wickedness,  and  he  had 
better  let  it  alone. 

Jack  Brown,  then,  as  good  a  heart  as  he  had,  did 
not  know  what  it  was  to  deny  himself  anything.  He 
was  so  good-natured,  indeed,  that  he  never  in  his  life 
refused  to  make  one  of  a  jolly  set ;  but  he  was  not 
good-natured  enough  to  consider  that  those  men 
whom  he  kept  up  all  night  roaring  and  laughing,  had 
wives  and  children  at  home,  who  had  little  to  eat, 
and  less  to  wear,  because  they  were  keeping  up  the 
character  of  merry  fellows,  and  good  hearts,  at  the 
public  house. 

The  Mountebank. 

One  day  he  saw  his  father's  plough-boy  come  gal- 
loping up  to  the  door  in  great  haste.  This  boy  brought 
Brown  word  that  his  mother  was  dangerously  ill,  and 
that  his  father  had  sent  his  own  best  bay  mare,  Smiler, 
that  his  son  might  lose  no  time,  but  set  out  directly 
to  see  his  mother  before  she  died.  Jack  burst  into 
tears,  lamented  the  danger  of  so  fond  a  mother,  and 
all  the  people  in  the  shop  extolled  his  good  heart. 

He  sent  back  the  boy  directly,  with  a  message  that 
he  would  follow  him  in  half  an  hour,  as  soon  as  the 
mare  had  baited,  for  he  v/ell  knew  that  his  father 
would  not  thank  him  for  any  haste  he  might  make  if 
Smiler  was  hurt. 

Jack  accordingly  set  off,  and  rode  with  such  speed 
to  the  next  town,  that  both  himself  and  Smiler  had 
a  mind  to  another  bait.  They  stopped  at  the  Star  ; 
unluckily  it  was  fair-day,  and  as  he  was  walking  about 
while  Smiler  was  eating  her  oats,  a  bill  was  put  into 
his  hand,  setting  forth,  that  on  the  stage  opposite  the 
globe  a  mountebank  was  showing  away,  and  his  an- 
drew  performing  the  finest  tricks  that  ever  were  seen. 
He  read — he  stood  still — he  went  on — "  It  will  not 
hinder  me,"  says  he,  "  Smiler  must  rest,  and  1  shaU 
see  my  poor  dear  mother  quite  as  soon  if  I  juat  take 
a  peep,  as  if  I  sit  moping  at  the  Star." 


lOfl  DOMESTIC    TALES    AXD    ALLEGORIES. 

The  tricks  were  so  merry  that  the  t  me  seemed 
ehort,  and  when  they  were  over  he  could  not  forbear 
going  into  the  Globe  and  treating  these  choice  spirits 
with  a  bowl  of  punch.  Just  as  they  were  taking  the 
last  glass  Jack  happened  to  say  tliat  he  was  the  best 
fives  pla}-er  in  the  country.  "That  is  lucky,"  said 
the  andrew,  "  for  there  is  a  famous  match  now  play- 
ing in  the  court,  and  you  may  never  atjain  have  such 
an  opportunity  to  show  your  skill."  Brown  declared 
*' he  could  not  stay,  for  that  he  had  left  his  horse  at 
the  Star,  and  must  set  off  on  urgent  business."  Tliey 
now  all  pretended  to  call  his  skill  in  question.  This 
roused  his  pride,  and  he  thought  another  half  hour 
could  break  no  squares.  Smiler  had  now  had  a  good 
feed  of  corn,  and  he  would  only  have  to  push  her  on 
a  little  more,  so  to  it  he  went. 

He  won  the  first  game.  This  spun-ed  him  on,  and 
he  played  till  it  was  so  dark  they  could  not  see  a 
ball.  Another  bowl  was  called  for  from  the  winner. 
Wagers  and  bets  now  drained  Brown  not  only  of  all 
the  money  he  had  won,  but  of  all  he  had  in  his 
pocket,  so  that  he  was  obliged  to  ask  leave  to  go  to 
the  house  where  his  horse  was,  to  borrow  enough  to 
discharge  his  reckoning  at  the  Globe. 

All  these  losses  brought  his  poor  dear  mother  to 
his  mind,  and  he  marched  off  with  rather  a  heavy 
heart  to  borrow  the  money,  and  to  order  Smiler  out 
of  the  stable.  The  landlord  expressed  much  surprise 
at  seeing  him,  and  the  ostler  declared  there  was  no 
Smiler  there — that  he  had  been  rode  off  above  two 
hours  ago  by  the  meiTy-andrew,  who  said  he  came 
by  order  of  the  owner,  Mr.  Brown,  to  fetch  him  to 
the  Globe,  and  to  pay  for  his  feed.  It  was  indeed 
one  of  the  neatest  tricks  the  andrew  ever  performed, 
for  he  made  such  a  clean  conveyance  of  Smiler, 
that  neither  Jack  nor  his  father  ever  heard  of  her 
again. 

It  was  night ;  no  one  could  tell  what  road  the  an- 
drew took,  and  it  was  another  hour  or  two  before  an 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  101 

advertisement  could  be  drawn  up  for  apprehendiotj 
the  horse-stealer.  Jack  had  some  doubts  whether  he 
should  go  on  or  return  back.  He  knew  that  though 
his  father  might  fear  his  wife  most,  yet  he  loved 
Smiler  best.  At  length  he  took  that  courage  from  a 
glass  of  brandy  which  he  ought  to  have  taken  from  a 
hearty  repentance,  and  he  resolved  to  pursue  his  jour- 
ney. He  was  obliged  to  leave  his  watch  and  silver 
buckles  in  pawn  for  a  little  old  hack  which  was  noth- 
ing but  skin  and  bone,  and  would  hardly  trot  three 
miles  an  hour. 

He  knocked  at  his  father's  door  about  five  in  the 
morning.  The  family  were  all  up.  He  asked  the 
boy  who  opened  the  door,  how  his  mother  was. 
"  She  is  dead,"  said  the  boy;  "she  died  yesterday 
afternoon."  Here  Jack's  heart  smote  him,  and  he 
cried  aloud,  partly  from  grief,  but  more  from  the  re- 
proaches of  his  own  conscience,  for  he  found  by 
computing  the  hours,  that  had  he  come  straight  on 
he  should  have  been  in  time  to  receive  his  mother's 
blessing. 

The  farmer  now  came  from  within ;  "  I  hear 
Smiler's  step.  Is  Jack  come  ?"  "Yes,  father,"  said 
Jack,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Then,"  cried  the  farmer, 
"  run  every  man  and  boy  of  you  and  take  care  of  the 
mare.  Tom,  do  thou  go  and  rub  her  down;  Jem, 
run  and  get  her  a  good  feed  of  corn.  Be  sure  walk 
her  about  that  she  may  not  catch  cold."  Young 
Brown  came  in.  "Are  you  not  an  undutiful  dog  ?" 
said  the  father ;  "  you  might  have  been  here  twelve 
hours  ago.  Your  mother  could  not  die  in  peace 
without  seeing  you.  She  said  it  was  cruel  return 
for  all  her  fondness  that  you  could  not  make  a  little 
haste  to  see  her;  but  it  was  always  so,  for  she  had 
wronged  her  other  children  to  help  you,  and  this  was 
her  reward."  Brown  sobbed  out  a  few  words,  but 
his  father  replied,  "  Never  cry,  Jack,  for  the  boy  told 
me  that  it  was  out  of  regard  for  Smiler  that  you  were 
uot  here  as  soon  as  he  was,   and  if  'twas  your  ovej 


102  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

care  of  her,  why,  there's  no  great  harm  done.  You 
coulil  not  have  saved  your  poor  mother,  and  you 
misht  have  hurt  the  mare."  Here  Jack's  double 
guilt  Hew  into  his  face.  He  knew  that  his  father 
w:i9  very  covetous,  and  had  lived  )n  bad  terms  with 
his  wife,  and  also  that  his  own  unkindness  to  her 
had  been  forgiven  by  him  out  of  love  to  the  horse, 
but  to  break  to  him  how  he  had  lost  that  horse 
through  his  own  folly  and  want  of  feeling,  was  more 
than  Jack  had  courage  to  do.  The  old  man,  how- 
ever, soon  got  at  the  truth,  and  no  words  can  de- 
scribe his  fury.  Forgetting  that  his  wife  lay  dead 
above  stairs,  he  abused  his  son  in  a  way  not  fit  to  be 
repeated,  and  though  his  covetousness  had  just  be- 
fore found  an  excuse  for  a  favorite  son  neglecting  to 
visit  a  d}-ing  parent,  yet  he  now  vented  his  rage 
against  Jack  as  an  unnatural  brute,  whom  he  would 
cut  off  without  a  shilling,  and  bade  him  never  see  his 
face  again. 

Jack  was  not  allowed  to  attend  his  mother's  funeral, 
which  was  a  real  grief  to  him  ;  nor  would  his  father 
advance  even  the  little  money  which  was  needful  to 
redeem  liis  things  at  the  Star.  He  had  now  no  fond 
mother  to  assist  him,  and  he  set  out  on  his  return 
home  on  his  borrowed  hack,  full  of  grief.  He  had 
the  added  mortification  of  knowing,  that  he  had  also 
lost  by  his  folly  a  little  ho."^d  of  money  which  his 
mother  had  saved  up  for  him. 

When  Brown  got  back  to  his  own  town  he  found 
that  the  stoiy  of  Smiler  and  the  andrew  had  got 
thither  before  him,  and  it  was  thought  a  very  good 
joke  at  the  Grayhound.  He  soon  recovered  his 
spirits  as  far  as  related  to  the  horse,  but  as  to  his  be- 
havior to  his  dying  mother  it  troubled  him  at  times 
to  the  last  day  of  his  life,  though  he  did  all  he  could 
to  forget  it.  He  did  not,  however,  go  on  at  all  bet- 
ter, nor  did  he  engage  in  one  frolic  the  less  for  what 
had  passed  at  the  Globe  ;  his  good  heart  continually 
betrayed  him  into  acts  of  levity  and  vanity. 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  103 

Jack  began  at  length  to  feel  the  reverse  of  that 
proverb,  Keep  your  shop  and  your  shop  icill  keep  you. 
He  had  neglected  his  customers,  and  they  forsook 
him.  Quarter-day  came  round  ;  there  was  much  to 
pay  and  little  to  receive.  He  owed  two  years'  rent. 
He  was  in  arrears  to  his  men  for  wages.  He  had  a 
long  account  with  his  currier.  It  was  in  vain  to  ap- 
ply to  his  father.  He  had  now  no  mother.  Stock 
was  the  only  true  friend  he  had  in  the  world,  and 
had  helped  him  out  of  many  petty  scrapes — but  he 
knew  Stock  would  advance  no  money  in  so  hopeless 
a  case.  Duns  came  fast  about  him.  He  named  a 
speedy  day  for  payment,  but  as  soon  as  they  were 
■out  of  the  house,  and  the  danger  put  off  to  a  little 
distance,  he  forgot  e^ery  promise,  was  as  merry  as 
ever,  and  run  the  same  round  of  thoughtless  gayety. 
Whenever  he  was  in  trouble  Stock  did  not  shun  him, 
because  that  was  the  moment  to  throw  in  a  little 
good  advice.  He  one  day  asked  him  if  he  always  in- 
tended to  go  on  in  this  course.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  I 
am  resolved  by-and-by  to  reform,  grow  sober,  and  go 
to  church.  Why,  I  am  but  five-and-twenty,  man,  1 
am  stout  and  healthy,  and  likely  to  live  long ;  1  can 
■repent,  and  grow  melancholy  and  good  at  any  time." 

"Oh,  Jack,"  said  Stock,  "don't  cheat  thyself  with 
that  false  hope.  What  thou  dost  intend  to  do,  do 
quickly.  Didst  thou  never  read  about  the  heart 
growing  hardened  by  long  indulgence  in  sin  ?  Some 
folk,  who  pretend  to  mean  well,  show  that  tliey  mean 
nothing  at  all,  by  never  beginning  to  put  their  good 
j-esolutions  into  practice,  which  made  a  wise  man 
once  say,  that  hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions. 
We  can  not  repent  when  we  please.  It  is  the  good- 
ness of  God  tchich  leadelh  us  to  repentance.''^ 

"  I  am  sure,"  replied  Jack,  "  I  am  no  one's  enemy 
but  my  own." 

"  It  is  as  foolish,"  said  Stock,  "  to  say  a  bad  man  is 
no  one's  enemy  but  his  own,  as  that  a  good  man  is 
ao  one's  friend  but  his  own.     There  is  no  such  neu- 


104  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND   ALLEGORIES. 

tral  cliaracter.  A  bad  man  corrupts  or  offends  all 
within  reach  of  his  example,  just  as  a^ood  man  ben- 
efits or  instmcts  all  within  the  sphere  of  his  influence. 
And  there  is  no  time  when  Ave  can  say  that  this 
transmitted  good  and  evil  will  end.  A  wicked  man 
may  be  punished  for  sins  he  never  committed  himself, 
if  he  has  been  the  cause  of  sin  in  others,  as  surely 
as  a  saint  will  be  rewarded  for  more  good  deeds  thaS 
he  himself  has  done,  even  for  the  virtues  and  good 
actions  of  all  those  who  are  made  better  by  his  in- 
structions, his  example,  or  his  writings." 

Michaelmas-day  was  at  hand.  The  landlord  de- 
clared he  would  be  put  olf  no  longer,  but  would 
seize  for  rent  if  it  was  not  paid  him  on  that  day,  as 
well  as  for  a  considerable  sum  due  to  him  for  leather. 
Brown  at  last  began  to  be  frightened.  He  applied  to 
Stock  to  be  bound  for  him.  This,  Stock  flatly  re- 
fused. Brown  now  began  to  dread  the  horrors  of  a 
jail,  and  really  seemed  so  very  contrite,  and  made  so 
many  vows  and  promises  of  amendment,  that  at 
length  Stock  was  prevailed  on,  together  with  two  or 
three  of  Brown's  other  friends,  to  advance  each  a 
small  sum  of  money  to  quiet  the  landlord.  Brown 
promising  to  make  over  to  them  every  part  of  his 
stock,  and  to  be  guided  in  future  by  their  advice,  de- 
claring that  lie  would  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  fol- 
low Mr.  Stock's  example,  as  well  as  his  direction  in 
everything. 

Stock's  good  nature  was  at  length  wrought  upon, 
and  he  raised  the  money.  The  truth  is,  he  did  not 
know  the  worst,  nor  how  deeply  Brown  was  involved. 
Brown  joyfully  set  out  on  the  very  quarter-day  to  a 
town  at  some  distance,  to  carry  his  landlord  this 
money,  raised  by  the  imprudent  kindness  of  his 
friend.  At  his  departure  Stock  put  him  in  mind  of 
the  old  story  of  Smiler  and  the  merry-andrew,  and 
he  promised  of  his  own  head  that  he  would  not 
even  call  at  a  public  house  till  he  had  paid  the 
Qoonev. 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  105 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  veiy  triumphant- 
ly passed  by  several.  He  stopped  a  little  under  the 
window  of  one  where  the  sounds  of  merriment  and 
loud  laughter  caught  his  ear.  At  another  he  heard 
tlie  enticing  notes  of  a  fiddle,  and  the  light  heels  of 
the  meriy  dancers.  Here  his  heart  had  well  nigh 
failed  him  ;  but  the  dread  of  a  jail  on  the  one  hand, 
and  what  he  feared  almost  as  much,  Mr.  Stock's 
anger  on  the  other,  spurred  him  on,  and  he  valued 
himself  not  a  little  at  having  got  the  better  of  this 
temptation.  He  felt  quite  happy  when  he  found  he 
had  reached  the  door  of  his  landlord  without  having 
yielded  to  one  idle  inchuation. 

He  knocked  at  the  door.  The  maid  who  opened 
it  said  her  master  was  not  at  home.  "  I  am  sorry  for 
it,"  said  he,  strutting  about ;  and  with  a  boasting  air 
he  took  out  his  money.  "  I  want  to  pay  him  my 
rent:  he  needed  not  to  have  been  afraid  of  ??ie."  The 
sei-vant,  who  knew  her  master  was  very  nuich  afraid 
of  him,  desired  him  to  walk  in,  for  her  master  would 
be  at  home  in  half  an  hour.  "  I  will  call  again,"  said 
he  ;  "  but  no,  let  him  call  on  me,  and  the  sooner  the 
better  :  I  shall  be  at  the  Blue  Posts."  While  he  had 
been  talking,  he  took  care  to  open  his  black  leather 
case,  and  to  display  the  bank  bills  to  the  sei-vant,  and 
then  in  a  swaggering  way,  he  put  up  his  money  and 
marched  off  to  the  Blue  Posts. 

He  was  by  this  time  quite  proud  of  his  own  resolu- 
tion, and  having  tendered  the  money,  and  being  clear 
in  his  own  mind  that  it  was  the  landlord's  own  fault 
and  not  his  that  it  was  not  paid,  he  went  to  refresh 
himself  at  the  Blue  Posts.  In  a  barn  belonging  to 
this  public  house,  a  set  of  strollers  wore  just  going  to 
perform  some  of  that  sing-song  ribaldry  by  which  our 
villages  are  corrupted,  the  laws  broken,  and  tliat  money 
drawn  from  the  poor  for  pleasure,  which  is  wanted  by 
their  families  for  bread.  The  name  of  the  last  new 
song,  which  made  part  of  the  entertainment,  mado 
him  thiiik  himself  iu  high  luck,  that  he  should  have 


106  DOMESTIC    TALES    4ND    ALLEGORIES. 

just  that  half  hour  to  spare.  He  went  into  the  barn,  but 
was  too  much  delighted  with  the  actor,  wlio  sung  his 
favorite  song,  to  remain  a  quiet  hearer.  He  leaped  out 
of  the  pit,  and  got  behind  the  two  ragged  blankets 
which  served  for  a  curtain.  He  sung  so  much  better 
than  the  actors  themselves,  that  they  praised  and  ad- 
mired him  to  a  degree  which  awakened  all  liis  vanity. 
He  was  so  intoxicated  with  their  flattery,  that  he  could 
do  no  less  than  invite  them  all  to  supper,  an  invitation 
which  they  were  too  hungrj'  not  to  accept. 

He  did  not,  however,  quite  forget  his  appointment 
with  his  landlord  ;  but  the  half  hour  was  long  since 
past  by.  "  And  so,"  says  he,  "  as  I  know  he  is  a 
mean  curmudgeon,  whc  goes  to  bed  by  daylight  to 
save  candles,  it  will  be  too  late  to  speak  with  him  to- 
night ;  besides,  let  him  call  upon  me  ;  it  is  his  busi- 
ness and  not  mine.  I  left  word  where  I  was  to  be 
found ;  the  money  is  ready,  and  if  I  don't  pay  him 
to-night,  I  can  do  it  before  breakfast." 

By  the  time  these  firm  resolutions  were  made,  sup- 
per was  ready.  There  never  was  a  more  jolly  even- 
ing. Ale  and  punch  were  as  plentiful  as  water.  The 
actors  s^w  what  a  vain  fellow  was  feasting  them ;  and 
as  they  wanted  victuals  and  he  wanted  flatteiy,  the 
business  was  soon  settled.  They  ate,  and  Browa 
sung.  They  pretended  to  be  in  raptures.  Singing 
promoted  drinking,  and  every  fresh  glass  produced 
a  song  or  a  story  still  more  merry  than  the  former. 
Before  morning,  the  players,  who  were  engaged  to 
act  in  another  barn  a  dozen  miles  oft',  stole  away 
quietly.  Brown  having  dropt  asleep,  they  left  him  to 
finish  his  nap  by  himself.  As  to  him,  his  dreams 
were  gay  and  pleasant,  and  the  house  being  quite  still, 
he  slept  comfortably  till  morning. 

As  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted,  the  business  of  the 
night  before  popped  into  his  head.  He  set  oft'  once 
more  to  his  landlord's  in  high  spirits,  gayly  singing 
by  the  way  scraps  of  all  the  tunes  he  had  picked  up 
he  night  before  from  his  new  friends.     The  landlord 


THE   TWO   SHOEMAKERS.  107 

opened  the  door  himself,  and  reproached  him  with 
no  small  surliness  for  not  having  kept  his  word  with 
him  the  evening  before,  adding,  that  he  supposed  he 
was  come  now  with  some  more  of  his  shallow  ex- 
cuses. Brown  put  on  all  that  haughtiness  which  is 
common  to  people  who  being  generally  apt  to  be  in 
the  wrong,  happen  to  catch  themselves  doing  a  right 
action  ;  he  looked  big,  as  some  sort  of  people  do  when 
they  have  money  to  pay.  "  You  need  not  have  been 
so  anxious  about  your  money,"  said  he,  "  I  was  not 
going  to  break  or  run  away."  The  landlord  well 
knew  this  was  the  common  language  of  those  who 
are  ready  to  do  both.  Brown  haughtily  added,  "You 
shall  see  I  am  a  manof  my  word  :  give  me  a  receipt.' 
The  landlord  had  it  ready  and  gave  it  him. 

Brown  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  for  liis  black 
leathern  case  in  which  the  bills  were :  he  felt,  he 
searched,  he  examined,  first  one  pocket,  then  the 
other,  then  both  waistcoat  pockets,  but  no  leather 
case  could  he  find.  He  looked  terrified.  It  was  in- 
deed the  face  of  real  terror,  but  the  landlord  conceived 
it  to  be  that  of  guilt,  and  abused  him  heartily  for  put- 
ting his  old  tricks  upon  him  ;  he  swore  he  would  not 
be  imposed  upon  any  longer;  the  money  or  a  jail — 
there  lay  his  choice. 

Brown  protested  for  once  with  great  truth,  that  he 
had  no  intention  to  deceive  ;  declared  that  he  had  ac- 
tually brought  the  money,  and  knew  not  what  was 
become  of  it ;  but  the  thing  was  far  too  unlikely  to 
gain  credit.  Brown  now  called  to  mind  that  he  had 
fallen  asleep  on  the  settle  in  the  room  where  they  had 
supped.  This  raised  his  spirits,  for  he  had  no  doubt 
but  the  case  had  fallen  out  of  his  pocket.  lie  said  he 
would  step  to  the  pul)lic  house  and  search  for  it,  and 
would  be  back  directly.  Not  one  word  of  this  did 
the  landlord  believe,  so  inconvenient  is  it  to  have  a 
bad  character.  lie  swore  Brown  should  not  stir  out 
of  his  house  without  a  constable,  and  made  him  wai 
while  he  sent  for  one.    Brown,  guarded  by  the  consta 


108  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND   ALLEGORfES. 

blc,  went  back  to  the  Blue  Posts,  the  landlord  char- 
ging the  ofiicer  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  culprit.  The 
caution  was  needless  :  Brown  had  not  the  least  de- 
sign of  running  away,  so  firmly  persuaded  was  he 
that  he  should  find  his  leather  case. 

But  Avho  can  paint  his  dismay,  when  no  tale  or  ti- 
dings of  the  leather  case  could  be  had  ?  The  master, 
the  mistress,  the  boy,  the  maid  of  the  public  house, 
all  protested  they  were  innocent.  His  suspicions 
soon  fell  on  the  strollers  with  whom  he  had  passed  the 
night ;  and  he  now  found  out  for  the  first  time,  that  a 
merry  evening  did  not  always  produce  a  happy  morn- 
ing. He  obtained  a  warrant,  and  proper  officers  were 
sent  in  pursuit  of  the  strollers.  No  one,  however, 
believed  he  had  rejJly  lost  anything;  and  as  he  had 
not  a  shilling  left  to  defray  the  expensive  treat  he  had 
given,  the  master  of  the  inn  agreed  with  the  other 
landlord  in  thinking  this  story  was  a  trick  to  defraud 
them  both,  and  Brown  remained  in  close  custody. 
At  length  the  officers  returned,  who  said  they  had 
been  obliged  to  let  the  strollers  go,  as  they  could  not 
fix  the  charge  on  any  one,  and  they  had  offered  to 
swear  before  a  justice  that  they  had  seen  nothing  of  the 
leather  case.  It  was  at  length  agreed,  that  as  he  had 
passed  the  evening  in  a  crowded  barn,  he  had  proba- 
bly been  robbed  there,  if  at  all ;  and  among  so  manyr 
who  could  pretend  to  guess  at  the  thief? 

Brown  raved  like  a  madman;  he  cried,  tore  his 
hair,  and  said  he  was  ruined  for  ever.  The  abusive 
language  of  his  old  landlord,  and  his  new  creditor  at 
the  Blue  Posts,  did  not  lighten  his  sorrow.  His  land- 
lord would  be  put  off  no  longer.  Brown  declared  he 
could  neither  find  bail  nor  raise  another  shilling  ;  and 
as  soon  as  the  forms  of  law  were  made  out,  he  was 
sent  to  the  county  jail. 

Here  it  might  have  been  expected  that  hard  living 
and  much  leisure  would  have  brought  him  to  reflect  a 
attle  on  his  past  follies.  But  his  heart  was  not  tnily 
touched.     The  chief  thing  which  grieved  him  at  first 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  109 

was,  his  ha'^uig  abused  the  kindness  of  Stock,  for  to 
him  he  should  appear  guilty  of  a  real  fraud,  where 
he  had  indeed  been  only  vain,  idle,  and  imprudent. 
Vanity,  idleness,  and  impnidence,  often  bring  a  man 
to  utter  ruin  both  of  soul  and  body,  though  silly  peo- 
ple do  not  put  them  in  the  catalogue  of  heavy  sins ; 
and  those  who  indulge  in  them  are  often  reckoned 
honest,  merry  fellows,  with  the  hest  hearts  in  the 
world. 

Jack  Brown  in  Prison 

Brown  was  no  sooner  lodged  in  his  doleful  habitation, 
and  a  little  recovered  from  his  first  surprise,  than  he 
sat  down  and  wrote  his  friend  Stock  the  whole  history 
of  the  transaction.  Mr.  Stock,  who  had  long  known 
the  exceeding  lightness  and  dissipation  of  his  mind, 
did  not  so  utterly  disbelieve  the  story  as  all  the 
other  creditors  did.  To  speak  the  truth,  Stock  was 
the  only  one  among  them  who  had  good  sense  enough 
to  know,  that  a  man  may  be  completely  ruined,  both 
in  what  relates  to  his  property  and  his  soul,  without 
committing  Old-Bailey  crimes.  He  well  knew  that 
idleness,  vanity,  and  the  love  of  ^jZeasf^re,  as  it  is  falsely 
called,  will  bring  a  man  to  a  morsel  of  bread,  as  surely 
as  those  things  which  are  reckoned  much  greater  sins, 
and  that  they  undermine  his  principles  as  certainly, 
though  not  quite  so  fast. 

Stock  was  too  angry  with  what  had  happened  to 
answer  Brown's  letter,  or  to  seem  to  take  the  least 
notice  of  him.  However,  he  kindly  and  secretly  un- 
dertook a  journey  to  the  hard-hearted  old  farmer, 
Brown's  father,  to  intercede  with  iiim,  and  to  see  if 
he  would  do  anything  for  his  son.  Stock  did  not 
pretend  to  excuse  Jacli,  or  even  to  lessen  his  ofiences; 
for  it  was  a  rule  of  his  never  to  disguise  truth  or  to 
palliate  wickedness.  Sin  was  still  sin  in  h\t,  eyes, 
though  it  were  committed  by  his  best  friend  ;  but 
though  he  would  not  soften  the  sin,  he  fek  tenderly 
(dy  the  sinner.  He  pleaded  with  the  old  farmer  on 
10 


no  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEeORIES. 

the  £;round,  that  his  son's  idleness  and  other  vices 
would  gather  fresh  strength  in  a  jail.  He  told  him 
that  the  loose  and  worthless  company  which  he  would 
there  keep,  would  harden  him  in  vice,  and  if  he  was 
now  wicked,  he  might  there  become  irreclaimable. 

Hut  all  his  pleas  were  urged  in  vain.  The  farmer 
was  not  to  be  moved ;  indeed,  he  argued  with  some 
justice,  that  he  ought  not  to  make  his  mdustrious 
children  beggars  to  save  one  rogue  from  the  gallows. 
Mr.  Stock  allowed  the  force  of  his  reasoning,  though 
he  saw  the  father  was  less  influenced  by  this  princi- 
ple of  justice  than  by  resentment  on  account  of  the 
old  story  of  Smiler.  People,  indeed,  should  take  care 
that  Avhat  apjjcars  in  their  conduct  to  proceed  from 
justice,  does  not  proceed  really  from  revenge.  Wiser 
men  than  Farmer  Brown  often  deceive  themselves, 
and  fancy  they  act  on  better  principles  than  they  really 
do,  for  want  of  looking  a  little  more  closely  into  their 
own  hearts,  and  putting  down  every  action  to  its  true 
motive.  When  we  are  praying  against  deceit,  we 
should  not  forget  to  take  self-deceit  into  the  account. 

Mr.  Stock  at  length  wrote  to  poor  Jack  ;  not  to 
offer  him  any  help,  that  was  quite  out  of  the  question, 
but  to  exhort  him  to  repent  of  his  evil  ways,  to  lay 
before  him  the  sins  of  his  past  life,  and  to  advise  him 
to  convert  the  present  punishment  into  a  benefit,  by 
humbling  himself  before  God.  He  oflered  his  interest 
to  get  his  place  of  confinement  exchanged  for  one  of 
those  improved  prisons,  where  solitude  and  labor  have 
been  made  the  happy  instruments  of  bringing  many 
to  a  better  way  of  thinking,  and  ended  by  saying,  that 
if  he  ever  gave  any  solid  signs  of  real  amendment,  he 
would  still  be  his  friend,  in  spite  of  all  that  was  past. 

If  Mr.  Stock  had  sent  him  a  good  sum  of  money 
to  procure  his  liberty,  or  even  to  make  meny  with  his 
wretched  companions,  Jack  would  have  thought  him 
a  friend  indeed.  But  to  send  him  nothing  but  dry  ad- 
vice, and  a  few  words  of  empty  comfort,  was,  he 
.bought,    but  a   cheap  shabby  way  of  showing  his 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  Ill 

kindness  Unluckily,  the  letter  came  just  as  he  waa 
going  to  sit  down  to  one  of  those  direful  merry- 
makings which  are  often  carried  on  with  brutal  riot 
within  the  doleful  walls  of  a  jail  on  the  entrance  of  a 
new  prisoner,  who  is  often  expected  to  give  a  feast  to 
the  rest. 

When  his  companions  were  heated  with  gin, 
"  Now,"  said  Jack,  "  I'll  treat  you  with  a  sermon, 
and  a  very  pretty  preachment  it  is."  So  saying,  he 
took  out  Mr.  Stock's  kind  and  pious  letter,  and  was 
delighted  at  the  bursts  of  laughter  it  produced.  "  What 
a  canting  dog!"  said  one.  "  Repentance,  indeed!" 
cried  Tom  Crew ;  "  No,  no,  Jack,  tell  this  hypocriti- 
cal rogue  that  if  we  have  lost  our  libertj-,  it  is  only  for 
having  been  jolly,  hearty  fellows,  and  we  have  more 
spirit  than  to  repent  of  that,  I  hope  :  all  the  harm  we 
have  done  is  living  a  little  too  fast,  like  honest  bucks 
as  we  are." — "  Ay,  ay,"  said  jolly  George,  "  had  we 
been  such  sneaking  miserly  fellows  as  Stock,  we  need 
not  have  come  hither.  But  if  the  ill  nature  of  the 
laws  has  been  so  cruel  as  to  clap  up  such  fine  hearty 
blades,  we  are  no  felons  however.  We  are  afraid  of 
no  Jack  Ketch;  and  I  see  no  cause  to  repent  of  any 
sin  that's  not  hanging  matter.  As  to  those  who  are 
thrust  into  the  condemned  hole  indeed,  and  have  but 
a  few  hours  to  live,  they  must  see  the  parson,  and  hear 
a  sermon,  and  such  stuff.  But  I  do  not  know  what 
such  stout  young  fellows  as  we  are  have  to  do  with 
repentance.  And  so.  Jack,  let  us  have  that  rare  now 
catch  which  you  learnt  of  the  strollers  that  merry 
night  when  you  lost  your  pocket-book. 

This  thoughtless  youth  soon  gave  a  fresh  proof  of 
the  power  of  evil  company,  and  of  the  quick  progress 
of  the  lieart  of  a  sinner  from  bad  to  worse.  Brown, 
who  always  wanted  principle,  soon  grew  to  want  feel- 
ing also.  lie  joined  in  the  laugh  which  was  raised 
against  Stock,  and  told  many  srood  slories,  as  they  were 
called,  in  derision  of  the  piety,  sobriety,  and  sclf-de- 
niel  of  his  old  friend.     He  lost  every  day  somewhal 


ll'l  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIEH. 

of  those  small  remains  of  shame  and  decency  whictt 
he  liad  brought  with  him  to  the  prison.  He  even 
g;-sw  reconciled  to  this  Avretched  way  of  life,  and  the 
want  of  money  seemed  to  him  the  heaviest  evil  in  the 
life  of  a  jail. 

Mr.  Stock  finding  from  the  jailer  that  his  letter  had 
been  treated  with  ridicule,  would  not  write  to  him 
any  more.  He  did  not  come  to  see  him  nor  send 
him  any  assistance,  thinking  it  right  to  let  him  suffer 
that  want  which  his  vices  had  brought  upon  him. 
But  as  he  still  hoped  that  the  time  would  come  when 
he  might  be  brought  to  a  sense  of  his  evil  courses,  he 
continued  to  have  an  eye  upon  him  by  means  of  the 
jailer,  who  was  an  honest,  kind-hearted  man. 

Brown  spent  one  part  of  his  time  in  thoughtless 
riot,  and  the  other  in  gloomy  sadness.  Company 
kept  up  his  spirits  ;  with  his  new  friends  he  contrived 
to  drown  thought ;  but  when  he  was  alone  he  began 
to  find  that  a  merry  fclloic,  when  deprived  of  his  com- 
panions and  his  hquor,  is  often  a  most  forlorn  wretch. 
Then  it  is  that  even  a  merry  fellow  says,  "  Of  laughter, 
what  is  it  ?  and  of  mirth,  it  is  madness^ 

As  he  contrived,  however,  to  be  as  little  alone  as 
possible,  his  gayety  was  commonly  uppermost  till 
that  loathsome  distemper,  called  the  jail  fever,  broke 
out  in  the  prison.  Tom  Crew,  the  ringleader  in  all 
their  evil  practices,  was  first  seized  with  it.  Jack 
stayed  a  little  while  with  his  comrade  to  assist  and 
divert  him,  but  of  assistance  he  could  give  little,  and 
the  very  thought  of  diversion  was  now  turned  into 
horror.  He  soon  caught  the  distemper,  and  that  in 
so  dreadful  a  degree,  that  his  life  was  in  great  danger. 
Of  those  who  remained  in  health,  not  a  soul  came 
near  him,  though  he  shared  his  last  farthing  with 
them.  He  had  just  sense  enough  left  to  feel  this 
cruelty.  Poor  fellow!  he  did  not  know  before,  that 
the  friendship  of  the  worldly  is  at  an  end  when  there  is 
no  more  drink  or  diversion  to  be  had.  He  lay  in  the 
most  deplorable  condition:  his  body  tormented  with 


■I  riE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  113 

n  dreadful  disease,  and  his  soul  tenified  and  amazed 
at  the  approach  of  death :  that  death  which  he  thought 
at  so  great  a  distance,  and  of  which  his  comrades  had 
so  often  assured  him,  that  a  young  fellow  of  five-and- 
twenty  was  in  no  danger.  Poor  Jack  !  I  can  not  help 
feeling  for  him.  Without  a  shilling  I  without  a 
friend  !  without  one  comfort  respecting  this  world, 
and,  what  is  far  more  terrible,  without  one  hope  re- 
specting the  next. 

Let  not  the  young  reader  fancy  that  Brown's  misery 
arose  entirely  from  his  altered  circumstances.  It  was 
not  merely  his  being  in  want,  and  sick,  and  in  prison, 
which  made  his  condition  so  desperate.  Many  an 
honest  man  unjustly  accused,  many  a  persecuted  saint, 
many  a  holy  martyr,  has  enjoyed  sometimes  more 
peace  and  content  in  a  prison,  than  wicked  men  have 
ever  tasted  in  the  height  of  their  prosperity.  But  to 
any  such  comforts,  to  any  comfort  at  all,  poor  Jack 
was  an  utter  stranger. 

A  Christian  friend  generally  comes  foi-ward  at  the 
very  time  when  worldly  friends  forsake  the  wretched. 
The  other  prisoners  would  not  come  near  Brown, 
though  he  had  often  entertained,  and  had  never  of- 
fended them  ;  even  his  own  father  was  not  moved 
with  his  sad  condition.  When  Mr.  Stock  informed 
him  of  it,  he  answered,  "  'Tis  no  more  tlian  he  de- 
serves. As  he  brews,  so  he  must  bake.  He  lias  made 
his  own  bed,  and  let  him  lie  in  it."  The  hard  okl 
man  had  ever  at  his  tongue's  end  some  proverb  of 
hardness  or  frugality,  which  he  contrived  to  turn  in 
euch  a  way  as  to  excuse  himself. 

We  shall  now  see  how  Mr.  Stock  behaved.  He 
had  his  favorite  sayings  too  ;  but  they  were  chieliy 
on  the  side  of  kindness,  mercy,  or  some  other  virtue. 
"  T  must  not,"  said  he,  "  ])retend  to  call  myself  a 
Christian,  if  I  do  not  requite  evil  with  good."  When 
lie  received  the  jailer's  letter  with  the  account  of 
Brown's  sad  condition,  Will  Simpson  and  ''J'ommy 
Williams  began  to  compliment  him  on  his  own  wis- 


114  DOMKSTIC    Til.ES    A>'D    ALLEG0RIK5. 

dom  and  prudence,  bywhich  he  had  escaped  Brown's 
misfortunes.  lie  only  gravely  said,  "  Blessed  be  God 
that  I  am  not  in  the  same  misery.  It  is  he  who  has 
made  us  to  diiTer.  But  for  his  grace  I  might  have 
been  in  no  better  condition.  Now  Brown  is  brought 
low  by  the  hand  of  God,  it  is  my  time  to  go  to  him." 
'•What,  you!"  said  Will,  "whom  he  cheated  of 
your  money  ?" — "  This  is  not  a  time  to  remember 
injuries,"  said  Mr.  Stock.  "  How  can  I  ask  forgive- 
ness for  my  own  sins,  if  I  withhold  forgiveness  from 
him  ?"  So  saying,  he  ordered  his  horse,  and  set  off 
to  see  poor  Brown,  thus  proving  that  his  was  a  re- 
ligion not  of  words  but  of  deeds. 

Stock's  heart  nearly  failed  him  as  he  passed  through 
the  prison.  The  groans  of  the  sick  and  dying,  and, 
what  to  him  was  still  more  moving,  the  bnital  merri- 
ment of  the  healthy  in  such  a  place,  pierced  his  very 
soul.  Many  a  silent  prayer  did  he  put  up  as  he 
passed  along,  that  God  would  yet  be  pleased  to  touch 
their  hearts,  and  that  now  (during  this  infectious  sick- 
ness) might  be  the  accepted  time.  The  jailer  ob- 
served him  drop  a  tear,  and  asked  the  cause.  "  I  can 
not  forget,"  said  he,  "that  the  most  dissolute  of  these 
men  is  still  my  fellow-creature.  The  same  God  made 
them;  the  same  Savior  died  for  them  ;  how  then  can 
I  hate  the  worst  of  them  ?  With  my  advantages  they 
might  have  been  much  better  than  I  am ;  without  the 
blessing  of  God  on  my  good  minister's  instructions, 
I  might  have  been  worse  that  the  worst  of  these.  I 
have  no  cause  for  pride,  much  for  thankfulness;  let 
us  not  he  high-minded,  hut  fear." 

It  would  have  moved  a  heart  of  stone  to  have  seen 
poor  miserable  Jack  Brown  lying  on  his  wretched 
bed,  his  face  so  changed  by  pain,  poverty,  dirt,  and 
son-ow,  that  he  could  hardly  be  known  for  that  merry 
soul  of  a  jack-boot,  as  he  used  to  be  proud  to  hear 
himself  called.  His  groans  were  so  piteous  that  it 
made  Mr.  Stock's  heart  ache.  He  kindly  took  him 
Uy  the  hand,   though  he  knew  the   distemper  wag 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  115 

catching.  "How  dost  do,  Jack?"  said  he;  "dost 
know  me  ?"  Brown  shook  his  head  and  said,  faintly. 
"  Know  you  ?  ay,  that  I  do.  I  ion  sure  I  have  but 
one  friend  in  the  world  who  would  come  to  see  me 
in  this  woful  condition.  O  James !  what  have  I 
brought  myself  to  ?  What  will  become  of  my  poor 
soul  ?  I  dare  not  look  back,  for  that  is  all  sin,  uoi 
forward,  for  that  is  all  misery  and  wo." 

Mr.  Stock  spake  kindly  to  him,  but  did  not  attempt 
to  cheer  him  with  false  comfort,  as  is  too  often  done. 
"  I  am  ashamed  to  see  you  in  this  dirty  place,"  says 
Brown.  "  As  to  the  place,  Jack,"  replied  the  other, 
"  if  it  has  helped  to  bring  you  to  a  sense  of  your  past 
offences,  it  will  be  no  bad  place  for  you.  I  am  heartily 
Sony  for  your  distress  and  your  sickness ;  but  if  it 
should  please  God  by  them  to  open  your  eyes,  and  to 
show  you  that  sin  is  a  greater  evil  than  the  prison  to 
which  it  has  brought  you,  all  may  yet  be  well.  I 
had  rather  see  you  in  this  humble,  penitent  state, 
lying  on  this  dirty  bed,  in  this  dismal  prison,  than 
roaring  and  rioting  at  the  Grayhound,  the  king  of  the 
company,  with  handsome  clothes  on  your  back,  and 
plenty  of  money  in  your  pocket." 

Brown  wept  bitterly,  and  squeezed  his  hand,  but 
was  too  weak  to  say  much.  Mr.  Stock  then  desired 
the  jailer  to  let  him  have  such  things  as  were  needful, 
and  he  would  pay  for  them.  He  would  not  leave  the 
poor  fellow  till  he  had  given  him,  with  his  own  hands, 
some  broth  which  the  jailer  had  got  ready  for  him, 
and  some  medicines  which  the  doctor  had  sent.  All 
this  kindness  cut  Brown  to  the  heart.  He  was  just 
able  to  sob  out,  "My  unnatural  father  leaves  me  to 
perish,  and  my  injured  friend  is  more  than  a  father  to 
me."  Stock  told  him  that  one  proof  he  must  give  of 
his  repentance  was,  that  he  must  forgive  his  father 
whose  provocation  had  been  very  great.  He  then 
said  he  would  leave  him  for  the  present  to  take  some 
rest,  and  desired  him  to  lift  up  his  heart  to  God  for 
mercy.     "  Dear  James,"   replied  Brown,   "  do   you 


110  DOMKSTic  tale:  and  allegories. 

pray  for  me.  God  perhaps  may  hear  you,  but  he  will 
never  hear  the  prayer  of  such  a  sinner  as  I  have  been." 
"Take  care  how  you  think  so,"  said  Stock.  "To 
beheve  that  God  can  not  forgive  you,  would  be  still  a 
greater  sin  than  any  y6u  have  yet  committed  against 
him."  He  then  explained  to  him  in  a  few  words,  as 
well  as  he  was  able,  the  nature  of  repentance  and  for- 
giveness through  a  Savior,  and  warned  him  earnestly 
against  unbelief  and  hardness  of  heart. 

Poor  Jack  grew  much  refreshed  in  body  with  the 
comfortable  things  he  had  taken,  and  a  little  cheered 
with  Stock's  kindness  in  coming  so  far  to  see  and  to 
forgive  such  a  forlorn  outcast,  sick  of  an  rrfectious 
distemper,  and  locked  within  the  walls  of  o  prison. 

"  Surely,"  said  he  to  himself,  "there  must  be  some 
mighty  power  in  a  religion  which  can  lead  men  to  do 
such  things  I  things  so  much  against  the  grain  as  to 
forgive  such  an  injuiy,  and  to  risk  catching  such  a 
distemper :"  but  he  was  so  weak,  he  could  not  ex- 
press this  in  words.  He  tried  to  pray,  but  he  could 
not ;  at  length,  overpowered  with  weariness,  he  fell 
asleep. 

When  Mr.  Stock  came  back,  he  was  surprised  to 
find  him  so  much  better  in  body  ;  but  his  agonies  of 
mind  were  dreadful,  and  he  had  now  got  strength  to 
express  part  of  the  horrors  which  he  felt.  "  .Tames," 
said  he,  looking  wildly,  "  it  is  all  over  with  me.  I  am 
a  lost  creature.  Even  your  prayers  can  not  save  me." 
"  Dear  Jack,"  rephed  Mr.  Stock,  "  I  am  no  minister; 
it  does  not  become  me  to  talk  much  to  thee  ;  but  I 
know  I  may  venture  to  say  whatever  is  in  the  Bible. 
As  ignorant  as  I  am,  I  shall  be  safe  enough  while  I 
stick  to  that." — "Ay,"  said  the  sick  man,  "you  used 
to  be  ready  enough  to  read  to  me,  and  I  would  not 
listen,  or  if  I  did  it  was  only  to  make  fun  of  what  I 
heard,  and  now  you  will  not  so  much  as  read  a  bit  of 
a  chapter  to  me." 

This  was  the  very  point  to  which  Stock  longed  to 
bring  him.    So  he  took  a  httle  Bible  out  of  his  pocket. 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  117 

which  he  always  carried  with  him  on  a  journey,  and 
read  slowly,  verse  by  verse,  the  fifty-fifth  chapter  of 
Isaiah.  When  he  came  to  the  sixth  and  seventh 
verses,  poor  Jack  cried  so  much  that  Stock  was  forced 
to  stop.  The  words  were,  Let  the  iciclced  man  for- 
sake his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  Ids  thoughts, 
and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord.  Here  Brown  stopped 
him  sayino;,  "  Oh,  it  is  too  late,  too  late  for  me." — 
"  Let  me  finish  the  verse,"  said  Stock,  "  and  you  will 
see  your  error;  you  will  see  that  it  is  never  too  late." 
So  he  read  on — Let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he 
will  have  mercy  ui^on  him,  and  to  our  God,  and  he  will 
abundantly  pardon.  Here  Brown  started  up,  snatched 
the  book  out  of  his  hand,  and  cried  out,  "  Is  that  really 
there  ?  No,  no  ;  that's  of  your  own  putting  in,  in 
order  to  comfort  me  ;  let  me  look  at  the  words  my- 
self."— "  No,  indeed,"  said  Stock,  "  I  would  not  for 
the  world  give  you  unfounded  comlbrt,  or  put  off  any 
notion  of  my  own  for  a  Scripture  doctrine." — "  But 
is  it  possible,"  cried  the  sick  man,  "  that  God  may 
really  pardon  me  ?  Dost  think  he  can  ?  Dost  think 
he  will  ?" — "  I  dare  not  give  thee  false  hopes,  or  in- 
deed any  hopes  of  my  own.  But  these  are  God's  own 
words,  and  the  only  difficulty  is  to  know  when  we 
are  really  brought  into  such  a  state  as  that  the  words 
may  be  applied  to  us  ;  for  a  text  may  be  full  of  com- 
fort, and  yet  may  not  belong  to  us." 

Mr.  Stock  was  afraid  of  saying  more.  He  would 
not  venture  out  of  his  depth;  nor  indeed  was  ])oor 
Brown  able  to  bear  more  discourse  just  now.  So  he 
made  him  a  present  of  the  Bible,  folding  dosvn  such 
places  as  he  thought  might  be  best  suited  to  his  state, 
and  took  his  leave,  being  obliged  to  return  home  that 
night.  He  left  a  little  money  with  the  jailer,  to  add 
a  few  comforts  to  the  allowance  of  the  prison,  and 
promised  to  return  in  a  short  time. 

When  he  got  home,  he  described  the  sufierings  and 
misery  of  Brown  in  a  very  moving  niaimer;-but  Tom- 
my Williams,  instead  of  being  properly  alfocted  by  it. 


113  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

only  said,  "Indeed,  master,  I  am  not  very  sorry;  ha 
is  rightly  served." — "  How,  Tommy,"  said  Mr.  Stock, 
rather  sternly,  "  not  sorry  to  see  a  fellow-creature 
brought  to  the  lowest  state  of  misery ,  one  too  whom 
you  have  known  so  prosperous?"  "No,  master,  I 
can't  say  I  am  ;  for  Mr.  Brown  used  to  make  fun  of 
you,  and  laugh  at  you  for  being  so  godly,  and  reading 
your  Bible." 

"  Let  me  say  a  few  -words  to  you  Tommy,"  said 
Mr.  Stock.  "  In  the  first  place  you  should  never 
watch  for  the  time  of  a  man's  being  brought  low  by 
trouble  to  tell  of  his  faults.  Next,  you  should  never 
rejoice  at  his  trouble,  but  pity  him,  and  pray  for  him. 
Lastly,  as  to  his  ridiculing  me  for  my  religion,  if  1 
can  not  stand  an  idle  jest,  I  am  not  worthy  the  name 
of  a  Christian.  He  that  is  ashamed  of  me  and  viy 
word — dost  remember  what  follows.  Tommy?" — 
"  Yes,  master,  it  was  last  Sunday's  text — of  him  shall 
the  Son  of  Man  he  ashamed  when  he  shall  judge  the 
world." 

Mr.  Stock  soon  went  back  to  the  prison.  But  he 
did  not  go  alone.  He  took  with  him  Mr.  Thomas, 
the  worthy  minister  who  had  been  the  guide  and  in- 
structer  of  his  youth,  Avho  was  so  kind  as  to  go  at  his 
request  and  visit  this  forlorn  prisoner.  When  they 
got  to  Brown's  door,  they  found  him  sitting  up  in  his 
bed  with  the  Bible  in  his  hand.  This  was  a  joyful 
sight  to  3Ir.  Stock,  who  secretly  thanked  God  for  it. 
Brown  was  reading  aloud  ;  they  listened  ;  it  was  the 
fifteenth  of  Saint  Luke.  The  circumstances  of  this 
beautiful  parable  of  the  prodigal  son  were  so  much 
like  his  own,  that  the  story  pierced  him  to  the  soul ; 
and  he  stopped  every  minute  to  compare  his  own 
case  with  that  of  the  prodigal.  He  was  just  got  to 
the  eighteenth  verse,  /  xcill  arise  and  go  to  ?ny  father 
—at  that  moment  he  spied  his  two  friends;  joy  darted 
into  his  eyes.  ?'  O  dear  Jem,"  said  he,  "  it  is  not  too 
ate,  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father,  my  heavenly 
Father,   and  you,  sir,  will  show  me  the  way,  won' 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  119 

you  ?"  said  he  to  Mr.  Thomas,  Avhom  he  recollected. 
"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  in  so  hopeful  a  disposi- 
tion," said  the  good  minister.  "O,  sir,"  said  Brown, 
"  what  a  place  is  this  to  receive  you  in  ?  O,  see  to 
what  I  have  brought  myself!" 

"Your  condition,  as  to  this  world,  is  indeed  very 
low,"  replied  the  good  divine.  "  But  what  are  mines, 
dungeons,  or  galleys,  to  that  eternal  hopeless  prison  to 
which  your  unrepented  sins  must  soon  have  consigned 
you.  Even  in  this  gloomy  prison,  on  this  bed  of 
straw,  worn  down  by  pain,  poverty,  and  want,  forsa- 
ken by  your  worldly  friends,  an  object  of  scorn  to 
those  with  whom  you  used  to  carouse  and  riot;  yet 
here,  I  say,  brought  thus  low,  if  you  have  at  last 
found  out  your  own  vileness,  and  your  utterly  undone 
state  by  sin,  you  may  still  be  more  an  object  of  favor 
in  the  sight  of  God,  than  when  j-ou  thought  yourself 
prosperous  and  happy;  when  the  world  smiled  upon 
you,  and  you  passed  your  days  and  nights  in  envied 
gayety  and  unchristian  riot.  If  you  will  but  improve 
the  present  awful  visitation  ;  if  you  do  but  heartily 
renounce  and  abhor  your  present  evil  courses  ;  if  you 
even  now  turn  to  the  Lord  your  Savior  with  lively 
faith,  deep  repentance,  and  unfeigned  obedience,  1 
shall  still  have  more  hope  of  you  than  of  many  wlio 
are  going  on  quite  happy,  because  quite  insensible. 
The  heavy  laden  sinner,  who  has  discovered  tlie  ini- 
quity of  his  own  heart,  and  his  utter  inability  to  help 
himself,  may  be  restored  to  God's  favor,  and  become 
happy,  though  in  a  dungeon.  And  be  assured,  that 
he  who  from  deep  and  humble  contrition  dares  not  so 
much  as  lift  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  when  with  a 
hearty  faith  he  sighs  out,  hord  be  inercifal  to  me  a 
sinner,  shall  in  no  wise  be  cast  out.  These  are  the 
words  of  Him  who  can  not  lie." 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  self-abasement,  the 
grief,  the  joy,  the  shame,  the  hope,  and  the  fear, 
wliirh  filled  the  mind  of  this  poor  man.  A  dawn  of 
comfort  at  length  shone  on  his  benighted  mind.     Ilia 


120  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

humility  and  fear  of  falling  back  into  his  former  sinS; 
if  he  should  ever  recover,  Mr.  Thomas  thought  were 
strong  symptoms  of  a  sound  repentance.  He  im 
proved  and  cherished  every  good  disposition  he  saw 
arising  in  his  heart,  and  particularly  warned  him 
against  self-deceit,  self-confidence,  and  hypocrisy. 

After  Brown  had  deeply  expressed  his  sorrow 
for  his  offences,  Mr.  Thomas  thus  addressed  him. 
"  There  are  two  waj's  of  being  sorry  for  sin.  Are 
you,  Mr.  Brown,  afraid  of  the  guilt  of  sin  because 
of  the  punishment  annexed  to  it,  or  are  you  afraid  of 
sin  itself?  Do  you  wish  to  be  delivered  from  the 
power  of  sin  ?  Do  you  hate  sin  because  you  know 
it  is  offensive  to  a  pure  and  holy  God  ?  Or  are  you 
only  ashamed  of  it  because  it  has  brought  you  to  a 
prison  and  exposed  you  to  the  contempt  of  the  world  ? 
It  is  not  said  that  the  wages  of  this  or  that  particular 
sin  is  death,  but  of  sin  in  general ;  there  is  no  excep- 
tion made  because  it  is  a  more  creditable  or  a  favorite 
sin,  or  because  it  is  a  little  one.  There  are,  I  repeat, 
two  ways  of  being  sorry  for  sin.  Cain  was  sorry — 
My  pumshmcnl  is  greater  than  I  can  hear,  said  he  ; 
but  here  you  see  the  punishment  seemed  to  be  the 
cause  of  concern,  not  the  sin.  David  seems  to  have 
had  a  good  notion  of  godly  sorrow,  when  he  says, 
Wash  me  from  mine  iniquity,  cleanse  me  from  my  sin. 
And  when  Job  repented  in  dust  and  ashes,  it  is  not 
said  he  excused  himself,  but  he  abhorred  himself. 
And  the  prophet  Isaiah  called  himself  undone,  be- 
cause h  e  was  a  man  of  unclean  lips  ;  for,  said  he  '  I 
have  seen  the  King,  the  Lord  of  hosts;'  that  is,  he 
could  not  take  the  proper  measure  of  his  own  iniquity 
till  he  had  considered  the  perfect  holiness  of  God." 

One  day,  when  Mr.  Thomas  and  Mr.  Stock  came 
to  see  him,  they  found  him  more  than  commonly  af- 
fected. His  face  was  more  ghastly  pale  than  usual, 
and  his  eyes  were  red  with  crying.  "  Oh,  sir,"  said 
he,  "  what  a  sight  have  I  just  seen!  jolly  George,  as 
we  used  to  call  him,  the  ringleader  of  all  our  mirth. 


THE   TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  121 

who  was  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  fun  and  tri.'^ks,  and 
wickedness  that  are  carried  on  within  these  walls, 
jolly  George  is  just  dead  of  the  jail  distemper!  He 
taken,  and  I  left !  I  would  be  carried  into  his  room 
to  speak  to  him,  to  beg  him  to  take  warning  by  me, 
and  that  I  might  take  warning  by  him.  But  what 
did  I  see  !  what  did  I  hear !  not  one  sign  of  repent- 
ance ;  not  one  dawn  of  hope.  Agony  of  body,  blas- 
phemies on  his  tongue,  despair  in  his  soul ;  while  1 
am  spared  and  comforted  with  hopes  of  mercy  and 
acceptance.  Oh,  if  all  my  old  friends  at  the  Gray- 
hound  could  but  then  have  seen  jolly  George !  A 
hundred  sermons  about  death,  sir,  don't  speak  so 
home,  and  cut  so  deep,  as  the  sight  of  one  dying 
sinner." 

Brown  grew  gradually  better  in  his  health,  that  is, 
the  fever  mended,  but  the  distemper  settled  in  his 
limbs,  so  that  he  seemed  likely  to  be  a  poor,  weakly 
cripple  the  rest  of  his  life.  But  as  he  spent  much  of 
his  time  in  prayer,  and  in  reading  such  parts  of  the 
Bible  as  Mr.  Thomas  directed,  he  improved  every  day 
in  knowledge  and  piety,  and  of  course  grew  more 
resigned  to  pain  and  infirmity. 

Some  months  after  this,  his  hard-hearted  father, 
who  had  never  been  prevailed  upon  to  see  him,  or 
offer  him  the  least  relief,  was  taken  off  suddenly  by  a 
fit  of  apoplexy  ;  and,  after  all  his  threatenings,  he 
died  without  a  will.  He  was  one  of  those  silly,  su 
perstitious  men,  who  fancy  they  shall  die  the  sooner 
for  having  made  one  ;  and  who  love  the  world  and 
the  things  that  are  in  the  world  so  dearly,  that  they 
dread  to  set  about  any  business  which  may  put  them 
in  mind  that  they  are  not  always  to  live  in  it.  As  by 
this  neglect,  his  father  had  not  fulfilled  his  threat  of 
cutting  him  off  with  a  shilling.  Jack,  of  course,  went 
shares  with  his  brothers  in  what  their  father  left. 
What  fell  to  him  proved  to  be  just  enough  to  dis- 
chiuge  him  from  prison,  and  to  pay  all  his  debts,  but 
he  had  nothing  left.  His  joy  at  being  thus  enabled 
11 


122  DOM?:STlC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

to  make  restitution  was  so  great  that  he  thought  littlo 
of  his  own  wants.  He  did  not  desire  to  conceal  the 
most  trifling  debt,  nor  to  keep  a  shiUing  for  himself. 

Mr.  Stock  undertook  to  settle  all  his  affairs.  There 
did  not  remain  money  enough  after  every  creditor 
was  satisfied,  even  to  pay  for  his  removal  home.  Mr 
Stock  kindly  sent  his  own  cart  for  him  with  a  bed  in 
it,  made  as  comfortable  as  possible,  for  he  was  too 
weak  and  lame  to  be  removed  any  other  way,  and 
Mrs.  Stock  gave  the  driver  particular  charge  to  be 
tender  and  careful  of  him,  and  not  to  drive  hard,  nor 
to  leave  the  cart  a  moment. 

Mr.  Stock  would  fain  have  taken  him  into  his  own 
house,  at  least  for  a  time,  so  convinced  was  he  of  the 
sincere  reformation  both  of  heart  and  life  ;  but  Brown 
would  not  be  prevailed  on  to  be  further  burdensome 
to  this  generous  friend.  He  insisted  on  being  carried 
to  the  parish  workhouse,  which  he  said  was  a  far 
better  place  than  he  desei-ved.  In  this  house  Mr. 
Stock  furnished  a  small  room  for  him,  and  sent  him 
every  day  a  morsel  of  meat  from  his  own  dinner. 
Tommy  Williams  begged  that  he  might  always  be 
allowed  to  cany  it,  as  some  atonement  for  his  having 
for  a  moment  so  far  forgotten  his  duty,  as  rather  to  re- 
joice than  sympathize  in  Brown's  misfortunes.  He 
never  thought  of  this  fault  without  sorrow,  and  often 
thanked  his  master  for  the  wholesome  lesson  he 
then  gave  him,  and  he  was  the  better  for  it  all  his  life. 

Mr.  Stock  often  carried  poor  Brown  a  dish  of  tea 
or  a  basin  of  good  broth  herself.  He  was  quite  a 
cripple,  and  never  able  to  walk  out  as  long  as  he 
lived.  Mr.  Stock,  Will  Simpson,  and  Tommy  Wil- 
liams, laid  their  heads  together,  and  contrived  a  sort 
of  barrow  on  which  he  was  often  carried  to  church 
by  some  of  his  poor  neighbors,  of  which  Tommy 
was  always  one  ;  and  he  requited  their  kindness  by 
reading  a  good  book  to  them- whenever  they  would 
call  in ;  and  he  spent  his  time  in  teaching  their  chil- 
dren to  sing  psalms  or  say  the  catechism. 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  123 

Tt  was  no  small  joy  to  him  thus  to  be  enabled  to  go 
o  church.  Whenever  he  was  carried  by  the  Gray- 
hound,  he  was  much  moved,  and  used  to  put  up  a 
prayer  full  of  repentance  for  the  past,  and  praise  for 
the  present. 

Dialogue  •bettveen  James  Stock  and  Will  Simpson,  the 
shoemakers,  on  the  duty  of  carrying  religion  into 
our  common  business. 

James  Stock  and  his  journeyman,  Will  Simpson, 
having  resolved  to  work  together  one  hour  eveiy 
evening,  in  order  to  pay  for  Tommy  Williams's 
schooling  ;  this  circumstance  brouglit  them  to  be  a 
good  deal  together  when  the  rest  of  the  men  were 
gone  home.  Now  it  happened  that  Mr.  Stock  had  a 
pleasant  way  of  endeavoring  to  turn  all  common 
events  to  some  use ;  and  he  thought  it  right  on  the 
present  occasion  to  make  the  only  return  in  his  power 
to  Will  Simpson  for  his  great  kindness.  For,  said  he, 
if  Will  gives  up  so  much  of  his  time  to  help  to  pro- 
vide for  this  poor  boy,  it  is  the  least  I  can  do  to  trj^  to 
turn  part  of  that  time  to  the  purpose  of  promoting 
Will's  spiritual  good.  Now  as  the  bent  of  Stock's 
own  mind  was  religious,  it  was  easy  to  him  to  lead 
their  talk  to  something  profitable.  He  always  took 
especial  care,  however,  that  the  subject  should  be  in- 
troduced properly,  cheerfully,  and  without  constraint. 
As  he  well  knew  that  great  good  may  be  sometimes 
done  by  a  prudent  attention  in  seizing  proper  oppor- 
tunities, so  he  knew  that  the  cause  of  piety  had  been 
sometimes  hurt  by  forcing  serious  subjects  where 
there  was  clearly  no  disposition  to  receive  them.  I  say 
he  had  found  out  that  two  things  were  necessary  to 
the  promoting  of  religion  among  his  friends ;  a  warm 
zen\  to  be  always  -on  the  watch  for  occasions,  and  a 
cool  judgment  to  distinguish  which  was  the  right 
time  and  place  to  make  use  of  them.  To  know  how 
to  do  good  is  a  grea*.  matter,  but  to  know  ichen  to  do 
it  is  no  small  one. 


124  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND    ALLEGORIES. 

Simpson  was  an  honest,  good-natured  young  man , 
he  was  now  become  sober,  and  rather  religiously  dis- 
posed. But  he  was  ignorant — he  did  not  know  much 
of  the  grounds  of  religion,  or  of  the  corruption  of 
his  own  nature.  He  was  regular  at  church,  but  was 
first  drawn  thither  rather  by  his  skill  in  psalm-singing 
than  by  any  great  devotion.  He  had  left  off  going  to 
the  Grayhound,  and  often  read  the  Bible,  or  some 
other  good  book  on  the  Sunday  evening.  This  he 
thought  was  quite  enough;  he  thought  the  Bible  was 
the  prettiest  history-book  in  the  world,  and  that  re- 
ligion was  a  very  good  thing  for  Sundays.  But  he 
did  not  much  understand  what  business  people  had 
with  it  on  working-days.  He  had  left  off  drinking 
because  it  had  brought  Williams  to  the  grave,  and 
his  wife  to  diit  and  rags,  but  not  because  he  himself 
had  seen  the  evil  of  sin.  He  now  considered  swear- 
ing and  sabbath-breaking  as  scandalous  and  indecent, 
but  he  had  not  found  out  that  both  were  to  be  left  off 
because  they  are  highly  offensive  to  God,  and  grieve 
his  Holy  Spirit.  As  Simpson  was  less  self-conceited 
than  most  ignorant  people  are.  Stock  had  always  a 
good  hope  that  when  he  should  come  to  be  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  word  of  God,  and  with  the  evil  of 
his  own  heart,  he  would  become  one  day  a  good 
Christian.  The  great  hinderance  to  this  was,  that  he 
fancied  himself  so  already. 

One  evening  Simpson  had  been  calling  to  Stock's 
mind  how  disorderly  the  house  and  shop,  where  they 
were  now  sitting  quietly  at  work,  had  formerly  been, 
and  he  went  on  thus: 

IVUl.  How  comfortably  we  live  now,  master,  to 
what  we  used  to  do  in  Williams's  time  !  I  used  then 
never  to  be  happy  but  when  we  were  keeping  it  up 
all  night,  but  now  I  am  as  merry  as  the  day  is  long. 
I  find  I  am  twice  as  happy  since  I  am  grown  good 
and  sober. 

Stock.  I  am  glad  you  are  happy,  Will,  and  I  re- 
joice that  you  are  sober ;  but  I  would  not  have  you 


THK   TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  125 

take  too  much  pride  id  your  own  goodness,  for  fear  it 
should  become  a  sin,  almost  as  great  as  some  of  those 
you  have  left  off.  Besides,  I  would  not  have  you 
make  quite  so  sure  that  you  are  good. 

WilL  Not  good,  master !  why,  don't  you  find  me 
regular  and  orderly  at  work  ? 

Stock.  Very  much  so,  and  accordin=gly  I  have  a 
great  respect  for  you. 

Will.  1  pay  every  one  his  own,  seldom  miss  cburch, 
have  not  been  drunk  since  Williams  died,  have  hand- 
some clothes  for  Sundays,  and  save  a  trifle  every 
week. 

StocJc.  Very  true,  and  very  laudable  it  is;  and  to  all 
this  you  may  add  that  you  very  generously  work  an 
hour  for  poor  Tommy's  education  every  evening, 
without  fee  or  reward. 

Will.  Well,  master,  what  can  a  man  do  more  ?  It 
all  this  is  not  being  good,  I  don't  know  what  is. 

Stock.  All  these  things  are  veiy  right  as  far  as  they 
go,  and  you  could  not  well  be  a  Christian  without 
doing  them.  But  I  shall  make  you  stare,  perhaps, 
when  I  tell  you  you  may  do  all  these  things,  and 
many  more,  and  yet  be  no  Christian. 

Will.  No  Christian !  surely,  master,  I  do  hope 
that  after  all  I  have  done  you  will  not  be  so  unkind 
as  to  say  I  am  no  Christian. 

Slock.  God  forbid  that  I  should  say  so.  Will.  I 
hope  better  things  of  you.  But  come  now,  what  do 
you  think  it  is  to  be  a  Christian  ? 

Will.  What!  why,  to  be  christened  when  one  is  a 
child  ;  to  learn  the  catechism  when  one  can  read  ;  to 
be  confirmed  when  one  is  a  youth,  and  to  go  to  church 
when  one  is  a  man. 

Slock.  These  are  all  very  proper  thitfgs,  and  quite 
necessary.  They  make  part  of  a  Christian's  life. 
But  for  all  that  a  man  may  be  exact  in  them  all,  and 
yet  not  be  a  Christian. 

Will.  Not  be  a  Christian!  ha!  ha!  ha!  you  are 
very  comical,  master. 


126  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

Stock.  No,  indeed,  I  am  very  serious.  Will.  Al 
this  rate  it  would  be  a  very  easy  thing  to  be  a  Clu-is- 
tian,  and  everj-  man  who  went  through  certain  forms 
would  be  a  good  man,  and  one  man  who  observed 
those  forms  would  be  as  good  as  another.  Whereas, 
if  we  come  to  examine  ourselves  by  the  word  of 
God,  I  am  afraid  there  are  but  few  comparatively 
whom  our  Savior  would  allow  to  be  real  Christians. 
What  is  your  notion  of  a  Christian's  practice? 

Will.  Why,  he  must  not  rob,  nor  murder,  nor  get 
drunk.  He  must  avoid  scandalous  things,  and  do  as 
other  decent,  orderly  people  do. 

Stock.  It  is  easy  enough  to  be  what  the  world  calls 
a  Christian,  but  not  to  be  what  the  Bible  calls  so. 

Will.  Why,  master,  we  working-men  are  not  ex- 
pected to  be  saints,  and  martyrs,  and  apostles,  and 
ministers. 

Stock.  We  are  not.  And  yet.  Will,  there  are  not 
two  sorts  of  Christianity ;  we  are  called  to  practise 
the  same  religion  which  they  practised,  and  some- 
thing of  the  same  spirit  is  expected  in  us  which  we 
reverence  in  them.  It  was  not  saints  and  martyrs 
only  to  whom  our  Savior  said  that  they  must  crucify 
the  rcorlcl  ivith  its  affections  and  lusts.  We  are  called 
to  he  holy  in  our  measure  and  degree,  as  he  who  hath 
called  us  is  holy.  It  was  ncrt  only  saints  and  martyrs 
who  were  told  that  they  must  be  like  minded  uith 
Christ.  That  they  Tnust  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God. 
That  they  must  renounce  the  sjnrit  of  the  world,  and 
deny  themselves.  It  was  not  to  apostles  only  that 
Christ  said,  They  must  have  their  conversation  in  heaven. 
It  was  not  to  a  few  holy  men,  set  apart  for  the  altar, 
that  he  said.  They  must  set  their  affections  on  things 
above.  That  they  must  not  be  conformed  to  the  world. 
No  ;  it  was  to  fishermen,  to  publicans,  to  farmers,  to 
day-laborers,  to  poor  tradesmen,  that  he  spoke  when 
he  told  them  they  must  love  not  the  world,  nor  the 
things  of  the  world.      Thai  they  must  renounce  the 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  127 

hidden  things  of  dishonesty,  grow  in  grace,  lay  up  for 
themselves  treasures  in  heaven. 

Will.  All  this  might  be  very  proper  for  them  io  be 
taught,  because  they  had  not  been  bred  up  Christians, 
but  Heathens  or  Jews,  and  Christ  wanted  to  make 
them  his  followers,  that  is,  Christians.  But,  thank 
God,  we  do  not  want  to  be  taught  all  this,  for  we  are 
Christians,  born  in  a  Christian  country,  of  Christian 
parents. 

Stock.  I  suppose,  then,  you  fancy  that  Christianity 
comes  to  people  in  a  Christian  country  by  nature. 

Will.  I  think  it  comes  by  a  good  education  or  a 
good  example.  When  a  fellow  who  has  got  any 
sense  sees  a  man  cut  off  in  his  prime  by  drinkinjc;, 
like  Williams,  I  think  he  will  begin  to  leave  it  off. 
When  he  sees  another  man  respected,  like  j'ou,  mas- 
ter, for  honesty  and  sobriety,  and  going  to  church, 
why,  he  will  grow  honest,  and  sober,  and  go  to 
church,  that  is,  he  will  see  it  his  advantage  to  be  a 
Christian. 

Stock.  Will,  what  you  say  is  the  truth,  but  'tis 
not  the  whole  truth.  You  are  right  as  far  as  you 
go,  but  you  do  not  go  far  enough.  The  worldly  ad- 
vantages of  piety,  are,  as  you  suppose,  in  general 
great.  Credit,  prosperity,  and  health,  almost  natural- 
ly attend  on  a  religious  life,  both  because  a  religious 
life  supposes  a  sober  and  industrious  life,  and  because 
a  man  who  lives  in  a  course  of  duty  puts  himself  in 
the  way  of  God's  blessing.  But  a  true  Christian  has 
a  still  higher  aim  in  view,  and  will  follow  religion 
even  under  circumstances  when  it  may  hurt  his  credit 
and  ruin  his  prosperity  if  it  should  ever  happen  to  be 
the  will  of  God  that  he  should  be  brought  into  such 
a  trying  state. 

Wilt.  Well,  master,  to  speak  the  truth,  if  I  go  to 
church  on  Sundays,  and  follow  my  work  in  the  week, 
I  must  say  I  think  that  is  being  good. 

Stock.  1  agree  with  you,  that  he  who  does  both, 
gives  the  best  outward  signs  that  he  is  good,  as  you 


128  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

call  it.  But  our  going  to  church,  and  even  reading 
the  Bible,  are  no  proofs  that  we  are  as  good  as  wo 
need  be,  but  rather  that  we  do  both  these  in  order  to 
make  us  better  than  we  are.  We  do  both  on  Sun- 
days, as  means,  by  God's  blessing,  to  make  us  better 
all  the  week.  We  are  to  bring  the  fruits  of  that 
chapter  or  of  that  sermon  into  our  daily  life,  and  try 
to  get  our  inmost  heart  and  secret  thoughts  as  well 
as  our  daily  conduct  amended  by  them. 

IVill.  Why,  sure,  master,  you  won't  be  so  unrea- 
sonable as  to  want  a  body  to  be  rehgious  always.  I 
can't  do  that  neither.  I'm  not  such  a  hypocrite  as  to 
pretend  to  it. 

Stock.  Yes,  you  can  be  so  in  eveiy  action  of  your 
life. 

Will.  What,  master,  always  to  be  thinking  about 
religion  ? 

Stock.  No,  far  from  it.  Will,  much  less  to  be  al- 
ways talking  about  it.  But  you  must  be  always  un- 
der its  power  and  spirit. 

Will.  But  surely  'tis  pretty  well  if  1  do  this  when 
I  go  to  church,  or  while  I  am  saying  my  prayers. 
Even  you,  master,  as  strict  as  you  are,  would  not 
have  me  always  on  my  knees,  nor  ahvays  at  church, 
I  suppose,  for  then  how  would  your  work  be  carried 
on,  and  how  would  our  town  be  supplied  with  shoes? 

Stock.  Very  true.  Will.  'Twould  be  no  proof  of 
our  religion  to  let  our  customers  go  barefoot,  but 
'twould  be  a  proof  of  our  laziness,  and  we  should 
starve,  as  we  ought  to  do.  The  business  of  the 
world  must  not  only  be  carried  on,  but  earned  on 
with  spirit  and  activity.  AVe  have  the  same  authority 
for  not  being  slothful  in  business,  as  we  have  for  being 
fervent  in  spirit.  Religion  has  put  godliness  and  lazi- 
ness as  wide  asunder  as  any  two  things  in  the  world, 
and  what  God  has  separated  let  no  man  pretend  to 
join.  Indeed,  the  spirit  of  religion  can  have  no  fel- 
lowship with  sloth,  indolence,  and  self-indulgence. 
But  still,  a  Christian  does  not  carry  on  his  common 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  129 

trade  quite  like  another  man  neither,  for  something  of 
the  spirit  which  he  labors  to  attain  at  church,  he  car- 
ries with  him  into  his  worldly  concerns.  While  there 
are  some  who  set  up  for  Sunday  Christians,  who 
have  no  notion  that  they  are  bound  to  be  week-day 
Christians  too. 

IVill.  Why,  master,  I  do  think,  if  God  Almighty 
is  contented  with  one  day  in  seven,  he  won't  thank 
you  for  throwing  him  the  other  six  into  the  bargain. 
I  thought  he  gave  us  them  for  our  own  use,  and  I  am 
sure  nobody  works  harder  all  the  week  than  you  do. 

Stock.  God,  it  is  true,  sets  apart  one  day  in  seven 
for  actual  rest  from  labor,  and  for  more  immediate  de- 
votion to  his  service.  But  show  me  that  text  where- 
in he  says.  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  on 
Sundays — Thou  shalt  keep  my  commandments  on 
the  sahbaili-day — To  be  carnally-minded  on  Sundays 
is  death — Cease  to  do  evil,  and  learn  to  do  well  one 
day  in  seven — Grow  in  grace  on  the  Lord's  day — Is 
there  any  such  text  ? 

Will.  No,  to  be  sure  there  is  not,  for  that  would 
be  encouraging  sin  on  all  the  other  days. 

Stock.  Yes,  just  as  you  do  when  you  make  religior 
a  thing  for  the  church  and  not  for  the  world.  There 
is  no  one  lawful  calling,  in  pursuing  which  we  may 
not  sei-ve  God  acceptably.  You  and  I  may  serve  him 
while  we  are  stitching  this  pair  of  boots.  Farmer 
Furrow  while  he  is  ploughing  yonder  field.  Betsy 
West,  over-the-way,  while  she  is  nursing  her  sick 
mother.  Neighbor  Incle,  in  measuring  out  his  tapes 
and  ribands.  I  say  all  these  may  serve  God  just  as 
acceptably  in  those  employments  as  at  church — I  had 
almost  said  more  so. 

Will.  Ay,  indeed;  how  can  that  be?  Now  you're 
too  much  on  t'other  side. 

Stock.  Because  a  man's  trials  in  trade  being  often 
greater,  they  give  him  fresh  means  of  glorifying  God 
and  proving  the  sincerity  of  religion.  A  man  who 
mixes  in  business  is  naturally  brought  into  continua 


J30  DOMKSTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

temptations  and  difficulties.  These  will  lead  him,  if 
he  be  a  good  man,  to  look  more  to  God  than  he  per- 
haps would  otherwise  do.  He  sees  temptations  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left;  he  knows  that  there 
are  snares  all  around  him ;  this  makes  him  watchful ; 
he  feels  that  the  enemy  within  is  too  ready  to  betray 
him  ;  this  makes  him  humble  himself,  while  a  sense 
of  his  own  difficulties  makes  him  tender  to  the  fail- 
ings of  others. 

IVill.  Then  you  would  make  one  believe,  after  all, 
that  trade  and  business  must  be  sinful  in  itself,  since 
it  brings  a  man  into  all  these  snares  and  scrapes. 

Stock.  No,  no,  Will ;  trade  and  business  don't 
create  evil  passions — they  were  in  the  heart  before — 
only  now  and  then  they  seem  to  lie  snug  a  Ihtle — oui 
concerns  with  the  world  bring  them  oui  into  action 
a  httle  more,  and  thus  show  both  others  and  ourselves 
what  we  really  are.  But  then,  as  the  world  offers 
more  trials  on  the  one  hand,  so  on  the  other  it  holds 
out  more  duties.  If  we  are  called  to  battle  oftener, 
we  have  more  opportunities  of  victorj'.  Every  temp- 
tation resisted  is  an  enemy  subdued,  and  he  that 
ruleth  his  own  spirit,  is  better  than  he  that  taketh  a 
city. 

Will.  I  don't  quite  understand  you,  master. 

Stock.  I  will  try  to  explain  myself.  There  is  no 
passion  more  called  out  by  the  transactions  of  trade 
than  covetousness.  Now,  'tis  impossible  to  withstand 
such  a  master  sin  as  that,  without  carrj-ing  a  good 
deal  of  the  spirit  of  religion  into  one's  trade. 

Will.  AVell,  I  own  I  don't  yet  see  how  I  am  to  be 
religious  when  I'm  hard  at  work,  or  busy  settling  an 
account.  I  can't  do  two  things  at  once ;  'tis  as  if  I 
were  to  pretend  5  make  a  shoe  and  cut  out  a  boot  at 
the  same  moment. 

Stock.  I  tell  you  both  must  subsist  together.  Nay, 
he  one  must  be  the  motive  to  the  other.  God  com- 
mands us  to  be  industrious,  and  if  we  love  him,  the 


THE    TWO   SHOEMAKERS.  13l 

desire  of  pleasing  him  should  be  the  main  spring  of 
our  industry. 

Will.  I  don't  see  how  I  can  always  be  thinking 
aoout  pleasing  God. 

Slock.  Suppose,  now,  a  man  had  a  wife  and  chil- 
dren whom  he  loved,  and  wished  to  serve ;  would  he 
not  be  often  thinking  about  them  while  he  was  at 
work  ?  and  though  he  would  not  be  always  thinking 
nor  always  talking  about  them,  yet  would  not  the  very 
love  he  bore  them  be  a  constant  spur  to  his  industry? 
He  would  always  be  pursuing  the  same  course  from 
the  same  motive,  though  his  words  and  even  his 
thoughts  must  often  be  taken  up  in  the  common 
transactions  of  life. 

Will.  I  say  first  one,  then  the  other;  now  for  labor, 
now  for  religion. 

Stock.  I  will  show  that  both  must  go  together,  f 
will  suppose  you  were  going  to  buy  so  many  skins  of 
our  currier;  that  is  quite  a  business  transaction;  you 
can't  see  what  a  spirit  of  religion  has  to  do  with  a  few 
calfskins.  Now,  I  tell  you  it  has  a  great  deal  to 
do  with  it.  Covetousness,  a  desire  to  make  a  good 
bargain,  may  rise  up  in  your  heart.  Selfishness,  a 
spirit  of  monopoly,  a  wish  to  get  all,  in  order  to  dis- 
tress others ;  these  are  evil  desires,  and  must  be  sub- 
dued. Some  opportunity  of  unfair  gain  offers,  in 
which  there  may  be  much  sin,  and  yet  little  scandal. 
Here  a  Christian  will  stop  short ;  he  will  recollect, 
That  he  who  maketh  haste  to  be  rich  shall  hardly  he 
innocent.  Perhaps  the  sin  may  be  on  the  side  of  your 
dealer — he  may  want  to  overreach  you — this  is  pro- 
voking— you  are  tempted  to  violent  anger,  perhaps  to 
swear ; — here  is  a  fresh  demand  on  you  for  a  spirit  of 
patience  and  moderation,  as  there  was  before  for  a 
spirit  of  justice  and  self-denial.  If,  by  God's  grace, 
you  get  the  victory  over  these  temptations,  you  are 
the  better  man  for  having  been  called  out  to  them,  al- 
ways provided,  tliat  the  temptations  be  not  of  your 
pwn  seeking.     If  you  give  way,  and  sink  under  these 


132  DOMESTIC    TALES   A>-D   ALLEGORIEJ. 

temptations,  don't  go  and  say  trade  and  business  have 
made  you  covetous,  passionate,  and  profane.  No, 
no  ;  depend  upon  it,  you  were  so  before ;  you  would 
have  had  all  these  evil  seeds  lurking  in  your  heart,  if 
you  had  been  loitering  about  at  home  and  doing  noth- 
ing, with  the  additional  sin  of  idleness  into  the  bar- 
gain. When  you  are  busy,  the  devil  often  tem^^ts 
you ;  when  you  are  idle,  you  tempt  the  devil.  If 
business  and  the  world  call  these  evil  tempers  into 
action,  business  and  the  world  call  that  religion  into 
action  too  which  teaches  us  to  resist  them.  And  in 
this  you  see  the  week-day  fruit  of  the  Sunday's  piety. 
'Tis  trade  and  business  in  the  week  which  call  us  to 
put  our  Sunday  readings,  praying,  and  church-going, 
into  practice. 

Will.  Well,  master,  you  have  a  comical  way,  some- 
how, of  coming  over  one.  I  never  should  have  thought 
there  would  have  been  any  religion  wanted  in  buy- 
ing and  selling  a  few  calfskins.  But  I  begin  to  see 
there  is  a  good  deal  in  what  you  say.  And,  when- 
ever I  am  doing  a  common  action,  I  will  try  to  re- 
member that  it  must  be  done  afcer  a  godly  sort. 

Stock.  I  hear  the  clock  strike  nine — let  us  leave  off 
our  work.  I  will  only  obser\'e  farther,  that  one  good 
end  of  our  bringing  religion  into  our  business  is,  to 
put  us  in  mind  not  to  imdertake  more  business  than 
we  can  carry  on  consistently  with  our  religion.  I 
shall  never  commend  that  man's  diligence,  though  it 
is  often  commended  by  the  world,  who  is  not  diligent 
about  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  We  are  as  much  for- 
bidden to  be  overcharged  with  the  cares  of  life,  as 
with  its  pleasures.  I  only  wish  to  prove  to  you,  that 
a  discreet  Christian  may  be  wise  for  both  worlds ;  that 
he  may  employ  his  hands  without  entangling  his  soul, 
and  labor  for  the  meat  that  perisheth,  without  neglect- 
ing that  which  endureth  unto  eternal  life  ;  that  he 
may  be  prudent  for  time  while  he  is  wise  for  eter- 
Dity. 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  133 

The  duty  of  carrying  religion  into  our  amusements. 

The  next  evening,  Will  Simpson  being  got  first  to 
his  work,  Mr.  Stock  found  him  singing  very  cheer- 
fully over  his  last.  His  master's  entrance  did  not  pre- 
vent his  finishing  his  song,  which  concluded  with 
these  words : — 

"  Since  life  is  no  more  than  a  passage  at  best, 
Let  us  strew  the  way  over  with  flowers." 

When  Will  had  concluded  his  song,  he  turned  to 
Mr.  Stock,  and  said,  "  I  thank  you,  master,  for  first 
putting  it  into  my  head  how  wicked  it  is  to  sing  pro- 
line and  indecent  songs.  I  never  sing  any  now  which 
have  any  wicked  words  in  them." 

Stock.  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  So  far  you  do  well. 
But  there  are  other  things  as  bad  as  wicked  words, 
nay,  worse  perhaps,  though  they  do  not  so  much 
shock  the  ear  of  decency. 

Will.  What  is  that,  master  ?  What  can  be  so  bad 
as  wicked  words  ? 

Stock.  Wicked  thoughts,  Will ;  which  thoughts, 
when  they  are  covered  over  with  smooth  words,  and 
dressed  out  in  pleasing  rhymes,  so  as  not  to  shock 
modest  young  people  by  the  sound,  do  more  harm  to 
their  principles  than  those  songs  of  which  the  words 
are  so  gross  and  disgusting,  that  no  person  of  common 
decency  can  for  a  moment  listen  to  them. 

Will.  Well,  master,  I  am  sure  that  was  a  very 
pretty  song  I  was  singing  when  you  came  in,  and  a 
eons;  which  very  sober  good  people  sing. 

Stock.  Do  they?  Then  I  will  be  boW  to  say,  thai 
singing  such  songs  is  no  part  of  their  goodness.  1 
heard  indeed  but  two  lines  of  it,  but  they  were  so 
heathenish  that  I  desire  to  hear  no  more. 

W'dl.  Now  you  are  really  too  hard.  What  harm 
could  there  be  in  it  ?  there  was  not  one  indecent 
word. 

Stock.  I  own,  indeed,  that  indecent  words  are  par- 
ticularly offensive.  But,  as  I  said  before,  though  im- 
12 


134  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

modest  expressions  offend  the  ear  more,  they  do  not 
corrupt  the  heart,  perhaps,  much  more  than  songs  of 
which  the  words  are  decent,  and  the  principle  vicious. 
In  the  latter  case,  because  there  is  nothing  that  shocks 
nis  ear,  a  man  listens  till  the  sentiment  has  so  cor- 
rupted his  heart,  that  his  ears  grow  hardened  too,  and 
by  long  custom  he  loses  all  sense  of  the  danger  of  pro- 
fane diversions  ;  and  I  must  say  I  have  often  heard 
young  women  of  character  sing  songis  in  company, 
which  I  should  be  ashamed  to  read  by  myself.  But 
come,  as  we  work,  let  us  talk  over  this  business  a 
little ;  and  first  let  us  stick  to  this  sober  song  of  yours, 
that  you  boast  so  much  about.  {repeats.) 

"  Since  life  is  no  more  than  a  passage  at  best, 
Let  us  strew  the  way  over  with  flowers." 

Now,  what  do  you  learn  by  this? 

Will.  Why,  master,  I  don't  pretend  to  learn  much 
by  it.     But  'tis  a  pretty  tune  and  pretty  words. 

Stock.  But  what  do  these  pretty  words  mean  ? 

Will.  That  we  must  make  ourselves  meny  because 
life  i»  short. 

Stock.  Will !  of  what  religion  are  you  ? 

Will.  You  are  always  asking  one  such  odd  ques- 
tions, master ;  why,  a  Christian,  to  be  sure. 

Stock.  If  I  often  ask  you,  or  others  this  question, 
it  is  only  because  I  like  to  know  what  grounds  I  am 
to  go  upon  when  I  am  talking  with  you  or  them.  I 
conceive  that  there  are  in  this  countiy  two  sorts  of 
people,  Christians  and  no  Christians.  Now,  if  people 
profess  to  be  of  this  first  description,  I  expect  one 
kind  of  notions,  opinions,  and  behavior,  from  them  ;  if 
they  say  they  are  of  the  latter,  then  I  look  for  another 
set  of  notions  and  actions  from  them.  I  compel  no 
man  to  think  with  me.  I  take  eveiy  man  at  his 
word.  I  only  expect  him  to  think  and  believe  ac- 
cording to  the  character  he  takes  upon  himself,  and 
to  act  on  the  principles  of  that  character  which  he 
professes  to  maintain. 


THE    TWO    SHOEMAKERS.  13£ 

Will.  That's  fair  enough  ;  I  can't  say  but  it  is,  to 
take  a  man  at  his  own  word,  and  on  his  own  grounds. 

Stock.  Well,  then.  Of  Avhom  does  the  Scripture 
speak  when  it  says,  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-mor- 
roxo  we  die  ? 

Will.  Why  of  heathens,  to  be  sure,  not  of  Chris- 
tians. 

Stock.  And  of  whom  when  it  says.  Let  -us  cnnvn 
ourselves  with  rosebuds  before  they  are  uithered  ? 

Will.  O,  that  is  Solomon's  worldly  fool. 

Stock.  You  disapprove  of  both,  then. 

Will.  To  be  sure  I  do.  I  should  not  be  a  Christian 
if  I  did  not. 

Stock.  And  yet,  though  a  Christian,  you  are  ad- 
miring the  very  same  thought  in  the  song  you  were 
singing.     How  do  you  reconcile  this  ? 

Will.  O,  there  is  no  comparison  between  them. 
These  several  texts  are  designed  to  describe  loose, 
wicked  heathens.  Now  I  learn  texts  as  a  part  of  my 
religion.  But  religion,  you  know,  has  nothing  to  do 
with  a  song.     I  sing  a  song  for  my  pleasure. 

Stock.  In  our  last  night's  talk,  VVill,  I  endeavored 
to  prove  to  you  that  religion  was  to  be  brought  into 
our  business.  I  wish  now  to  let  you  see  that  it  is  to 
be  brought  into  our  2^ic-(isure  also  ;  and  that  he  who 
is  really  a  Christian,  must  be  a  Christian  in  his  very 
diversions. 

Will.  Now  you  are  too  strict  again,  master,  as  you 
last  night  declared,  that  in  our  business  you  would 
not  have  us  always  praying,  so  I  hope  that  in  our 
pleasure  you  would  not  have  us  alwaj's  psalm-sing- 
ing. I  hope  you  would  not  have  all  one's  singing  to 
be  about  good  things. 

Stock.  Not  so.  Will;  but  I  would  not  have  any 
part,  either  of  our  business  or  our  pleasure,  to  be 
about  evil  things.  It  is  one  thing  to  be  singing  about 
religion,  it  is  another  thing  to  be  singing  a<rainst  it. 
St.  Peter,  I  fancy,  would  not  much  have  approved 
your  favorite  song.     He  at  least  seemed  to  have  an* 


136  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

Other  view  of  the  matter,  when  be  said,  TJit  end  of 
all  things  is  at  hand.  Now  tliis  text  teaclies  much 
the  same  awful  truth  with  the  first  line  of  your  song. 
But  let  us  see  to  what  different  purposes  the  apostle 
and  the  poet  turn  the  veiy  same  thought.  Your  song 
says,  "  because  life  is  short,  let  us  make  it  merry.  Let 
us  divert  ourselves  so  much  on  the  road,  that  we  may 
forget  the  end."  Now  what  says  the  apostle  :  Because 
the  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand,  be  ye  therefore  sober 
and  icatch  unto  prayer. 

Will.  Why,  master,  I  like  to  be  sober  too,  and 
have  left  off  drinking.  But  still  I  never  thought  that 
we  were  obliged  to  cany  texts  out  of  the  Bible  to  try 
the  soundness  of  a  song,  and  to  enable  us  to  judge  if 
we  might  be  both  merry  and  wise  m  singing  it. 

Stock.  Providence  has  not  so  stinted  our  enjoy- 
ments. Will,  but  he  has  left  us  luany  subjects  of 
harmless  merriment :  but,  for  my  own  part,  1  am 
never  certain  that  anyone  is  quite  harmless  till  I  have 
tried  it  by  this  rule  that  you  seem  to  think  so  strict. 
As  I  passed  by  the  Grayhound  last  night,  in  my  way 
to  my  evening's  walk  in  the  fields,  I  caught  this  one 
verse  of  a  song  which  the  club  were  singing  : — 

"  Bring  the  flask,  the  music  bring, 
Joy  shall  quickly  find  us  ; 
Drink  and  dance,  and  laugh  and  sing; 
And  cast  dull  care  behind  us." 

When  I  got  into  the  fields,  I  could  not  forbear  com 
paring  this  song  with  the  words :  Talce  heed  lest  at 
any  time  your  heart  be  overcharged  with  drunkenness, 
and  so  that  day  cotne  upon  you  unatcares,for  as  a  snare 
shall  it  come  upon  all  them  that  are  on  the  face  of  the 
earth. 

Will.  Why,  to  be  sure,  if  that  is  right,  the  song 
must  be  wrong. 

Stock.  I  ran  over  in  my  mind  also  a  comparison 
oetween  such  songs  as  that  which  begins  with 

"  Drink,  and  drive  care  away," 


THE   TWO    SHOEMAKEKS.  137 

with  those  injunctions  of  holy  writ,  Watch  and  praT/, 
therefore,  that  you  enter  not  into  temptation;  and  again-, 
Watch  and  pray  that  you  may  escape  oil  these  things. 
I  say  I  compared  this  with  the  song  I  allude  to — 

"  Drink,  and  drive  care  away, 
Drink  and  be  merry  ; 
You'll  ne'er  go  the  faster 
To  the  Stygian  ferry." 

I  compared  this  with  that  awful  admonition  of  Scrip- 
ture how  to  pass  the  time  :  Not  in  rioting  and  drunk- 
enness, not  in  chambering  and  wantonness,  hut  put  ye 
071  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  make  not  provision  for 
the  flesh  to  fulfil  the  lusts  thereof. 

Will.  Master,  now  you  have  opened  my  eyes,  I 
think  I  can  make  some  of  those  comparisons  myself 
between  the  spirit  of  the  Bible  and  the  spirit  of  these 
songs. 

"  Bring  the  flask,  the  goblet  bring," 

won't  stand  very  well  in  company  with  the  threat  of 
the  prophet :  Wo  unto  them  that  rise  up  early,  that 
they  may  mingle  strong  drink. 

Stock.  Ay,  Will ;  and  these  thoughtless  people 
who  live  up  to  their  singing,  seem  to  be  the  very  peo- 
ple described  in  another  place  as  glorying  in  their  in- 
temperance, and  acting  what  their  songs  describe: — 
They  look  at  the  wine,  and  say  it  is  red,  it  moveth  itself 
aright  in  the  cup. 

Will.  I  do  hope  I  shall  for  the  future  not  only  be- 
come more  careful  what  songs  I  sing  myself,  but  also 
not  to  keep  company  with  those  who  sing  nothing 
else  but  what  in  my  sober  judgment  I  now  see  to  be 
wrong. 

Stock.  As  we  shall  have  no  body  in  the  world  to 
come,  it  is  a  pity  not  only  to  make  our  pleasures  here 
consist  entirely  in  the  delights  of  animal  life,  but  to 
make  our  very  songs  consist  in  extolling  and  exalting 
those  delights  which  are  unworthy  of  the  man  as 
wall  as  of  the  Christian.     If.  through  temptation  oj 


138  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

weakness,  we  fall  into  errors,  let  us  not  establish  and 
confirm  them  by  picking  up  all  the  songs  and  scraps 
of  verses  which  excuse,  justify,  and  commend  sin. 
That  time  is  short,  is  a  reason  given  by  these  song- 
mongers  why  we  should  give  into  greater  indulgences. 
That  time  is  short,  is  a  reason  given  by  the  apostle 
why  we  should  enjoy  our  dearest  comforts  as  if  we 
enjoyed  them  not. 

Now,  Will,  I  hope  you  will  see  the  importance  of 
so  inanaging,  that  our  diversions  may  be  as  carefully 
chosen  as  our  other  employments.  For  to  make 
them  such  as  effectually  drive  out  of  our  minds  all 
that  the  Bible  and  the  minister  have  been  putting  into 
them,  seems  to  me  as  imprudent  as  it  is  unchristian. 
But  this  is  not  all.  Such  sentiments  as  these  songs 
contain,  set  off  by  the  prettiest  music,  heightened  by 
liquor  and  all  the  noise  and  spirit  of  what  is  called 
jovial  company,  all  this,  I  say,  not  only  puts  every- 
thing that  is  right  out  of  the  mind,  but  puts  everything 
that  is  wrong  into  it.  Such  songs,  therefore,  as  tend 
to  promote  levity,  thoughtlessness,  loose  imagina- 
tions, false  views  of  life,  forgetfulness  of  death,  con- 
tempt of  whatever  is  serious,  and  neglect  of  whatever 
is  sober,  whether  they  be  love  songs,  or  drinking 
Bongs,  will  not,  can  not  be  sung  by  any  man  or  any 
woman  who  makes  a  serious  profession  of  Christianity, 


oiz.es  the  poacher.  13^V 


IV.  GILES  THE  POACHER; 

CONTAINING     SOME    ACCOUNr    OF    A    FAMILY    WHO    HAt 
RATHER    LIVE  BY  THEIR  WITS    THAN    THEIR    WORK. 

Poaching  Giles  lives  on  the  borders  of  those 
great  moors  in  Somersetshire.  Giles,  to  be  sure,  has 
been  a  sad  fellow  in  his  time,  and  it  is  none  of  his 
fault  if  his  whole  family  do  not  end  their  career  either 
at  the  gallows  or  Botany  Bay.  He  lives  at  that 
mud  cottage  with  the  broken  windows,  stuffed  with 
dirty  rags,  just  beyond  the  gate  which  divides  the 
upper  from  the  lower  moor.  You  may  know  the 
nouse  at  a  good  distance  by  the  ragged  tiles  on  the 
roof,  and  the  loose  stones  which  are  ready  to  droj) 
out  from  the  chimney,  though  a  short  ladder,  a  hod 
of  mortar,  and  half  an  hour's  leisure  time  would  have 
prevented  all  this,  and  made  the  little  dwelling  tight 
enough.  But  as  Giles  had  never  learned  anything 
that  was  good,  so  he  did  not  know  the  value  of  such 
useful  sayings,  as  that  "  a  tile  in  time  saves  nine." 

Besides  this,  Giles  fell  into  that  common  mistake, 
that  a  beggarly-looking  cottage,  and  filthy,  ragged 
children,  raised  most  compassion,  and  of  course  drew 
most  charity.  But  as  cunning  as  he  was  in  other 
things,  he  was  out  in  his  reckoning  here,  for  it  is 
neatness,  housewifery,  and  a  decent  appearance,  which 
draw  the  kindness  of  the  rich  and  charitable,  while 
they  turn  away  disgusted  from  filth  and  laziness,  not 
out  of  pride,  but  because  they  see  that  it  is  next  to 
impossible  to  mend  the  condition  of  those  who  de 


140  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLESORIES. 

grade  themselves  by  dirt  and  sloth ;  and  few  people 
care  to  help  those  who  will  not  help  themselves. 

The  common  on  which  Giles's  hovel  stands,  is 
quite  a  deep  marsh  in  a  wet  winter,  but  in  summer 
it  looks  green  and  pretty  enough.  To  be  sure  it 
would  be  rather  convenient  when  one  passes  that  way 
in  a  carriage,  if  one  of  the  children  would  run  out 
and  open  the  gate,  but  instead  of  any  one  of  them 
running  out  as  soon  as  they  heard  the  wheels,  which 
would  be  quite  time  enough,  what  does  Giles  do, 
but  set  all  his  ragged  brats,  with  dirty  faces,  matted 
locks,  and  naked  feet  and  legs,  to  lie  all  day  upon  a 
sand-bank  hard  by  the  gate,  waiting  for  the  slender 
chance  of  what  may  be  picked  up  from  travellers. 
At  the  sound  of  a  carriage,  a  whole  covey  of  these 
little  scare-crows  start  up,  rush  to  the  gate,  and  all 
at  once  thrust  out  their  hats  and  aprons,  and  for  fear 
this,  together  with  the  noise  of  their  clamorous  beg- 
ging, should  not  sufficiently  frighten  the  horses,  they 
are  very  apt  to  let  the  gate  slap  full  against  you,  be- 
fore you  are  half  way  through,  in  their  eager  scuf- 
fle to  snatch  from  each  other  the  half-pence  which 
you  have  thrown  out  to  them.  I  know  two  ladies 
who  were  one  day  very  near  being  killed  by  these 
abominable  tricks. 

Thus  five  or  six  little  idle  creatm^es,  v/ho  might  be 
earning  a  trifle  by  knitting  at  home,  who  might  be 
i;seful  to  the  public  by  working  in  the  field,  and  who 
might  assist  their  families  by  learning  to  get  their 
bread  twenty  honest  ways,  are  suff'ered  to  lie  about 
all  day,  in  the  hope  of  a  few  chance  half-pence,  which 
after  all,  they  are  by  no  means  sure  of  getting.  In- 
deed, when  the  neighboring  gentlemen  found  out 
that  opening  the  gate  was  a  family  trade,  they  soon 
left  off  giving  anything.  And  I  myself,  though  1 
used  to  take  out  a  penny  ready  to  give,  had  there 
been  only  one  to  receive  it,  when  I  see  a  whole  fam- 
ily established  in  so  beggarly  a  trade,  quietly  put  it 
back  again  in  my  pocket,  and  give  notliing  at  all, 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  J4x 

And  so  few  travellers  pass  that  way,  that  sometimea 
after  the  whole  family  have  lost  a  day,  tlieir  gains  do 
not  amount  to  two-pence. 

As  Giles  had  a  far  greater  taste  for  living  by  his 
wits  than  his  work,  he  was  at  one  time  in  hopes  that 
his  children  might  have  got  a  pretty  penny  by  tum- 
bling for  the  diversion  of  travellers,  and  he  set  about 
training  them  in  that  indecent  practice,  but  unluckily 
the  moors  being  level,  the  carriage  travelled  faster 
than  the  children  tumbled.  He  envied  those  parents 
who  lived  on  the  London  road,  over  the  Wiltshire 
downs,  which  downs  being  very  hilly,  it  enables  the 
tumbles  to  keep  pace  with  the  traveller,  till  he  some- 
times extorts  from  the  light  and  unthinking  a  reward 
instead  of  a  reproof.  I  beg  leave,  however,  to  put 
all  gentlemen  and  ladies  in  mind,  that  such  tricks  are 
a  kind  of  apprenticeship  to  the  trades  of  begging  and 
thieving,  and  that  nothing  is  more  injurious  to  good 
morals  than  to  encourage  the  poor  in  any  habits 
which  may  lead  them  to  live  upon  chance. 

Giles,  to  be  sure,  as  his  children  grew  older,  began 
to  train  them  to  such  other  employments  as  the  idle 
habits  they  had  learned  at  the  gate  very  properly 
qualified  them  for.  The  right  of  common,  which 
6ome  of  the  poor  cottagers  have  in  that  part  of  the 
countiy,  and  which  is  doubtless  a  considerable  ad- 
vantage io  many,  was  converted  by  Giles  into  the 
means  of  corrupting  his  whole  family,  for  his  child- 
ren, as  soon  as  they  grew  too  big  for  the  trade  of 
begging  at  the  gate,  were  promoted  to  the  dignity  of 
thieves  on  the  moor.  Here  he  kept  two  or  three 
asses,  miserable  beings,  which  if  they  had  the  good 
fortune  to  escape  an  tmtimely  death  by  starving,  did 
not  fail  to  meet  with  it  by  beating.  Some  of  the  big- 
gest boys  were  sent  out  with  these  lean  and  galled 
animals  to  carry  sand  or  coals  about  the  neighboring 
towns.  Both  sand  and  coals  were  often  stolen  before 
they  got  them  to  sell,  or  if  not,  they  always  took  care 

cheat  in  selling  them.     By  long  practice  in  this  art 


142  DOMESTIC    TALES    AXD    ALLEGORIES. 

they  grew  so  dexterous,  that  they  could  give  a  pretty 
good  guess  how  large  a  coal  they  could  crib  out  of 
every  bag  before  the  buyer  would  be  likely  to  miss  it. 

All  their  odd  time  was  taken  up  under  the  pretence 
of  watching  their  asses  on  the  mooi',  or  running  after 
five  or  six  half-starved  geese,  but  the  truth  is,  these 
boys  were  only  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  steal 
an  odd  goose  of  their  neighbor's,  while  they  pretend- 
ed to  look  after  their  own.  They  used  a-lso  to  pluck 
the  quills  or  the  down  from  these  poor  live  creatures, 
or  half  milk  a  cow  before  the  farmer's  maid  came 
with  her  pail.  They  all  knew  how  to  calculate  to  a 
minute  what  time  to  be  down  in  a  morning  to  let  out 
their  lank  hungiy  beasts,  which  they  had  turned  over 
night  into  the  farmer's  field  to  steal  a  little  good  pas- 
ture. They  contrived  to  get  there  just  time  enough 
to  escape  being  caught  replacing  the  stakes  they  had 
pulled  out  for  the  cattle  to  get  over.  For  Giles  was 
a  prudent,  long-headed  fellow,  and  whenever  he  stole 
food  for  his  colts,  took  care  never  to  steal  stakes  fron^ 
the  hedges  at  the  same  place.  He  had  sense  enough 
to  know  that  the  gain  did  not  make  up  for  the  danger; 
he  knew  that  a  loose  fagot,  pulled  from  a  neighbor's 
pile  of  wood  after  the  family  were  gone  to  bed,  an- 
swered the  end  better,  and  was  not  half  the  trouble. 

Among  the  many  trades  which  Giles  professed,  he 
sometimes  practised  that  of  a  rat-catcher  ;  but  he  was 
addicted  to  so  many  tricks,  that  he  never  followed  the 
same  trade  long,  for  detection  will,  sooner  or  later, 
follow  the  best  concerted  villany.  Whenever  he  was 
sent  for  to  a  farm-house,  his  custom  ■was  to  kill  a  few  of 
the  old  rats,  always  taking  care  to  leave  a  little  stock 
of  young  ones  alive,  sufficient  to  keep  up  the  breed  ; 
"for,"  said  he,  •'  if  I  were  to  be  such  a  fool  as  to  clear 
a  house  or  a  barn  at  once,  how  would  my  trade  be 
carried  on?"  And  where  any  bam  was  over-stocked 
he  used  to  borrow  a  few  rats  thence,  just  to  peo- 
ple a  neighboring  granary  which  had  none  ;  and  he 
might  have   gone  on  tiirnow,  had  he  not  unluckiljr 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  143 

been  caught  one  evening  emptying  his  cage  of  rats 
under  Parson  Wilson's  barn  door. 

This  worthy  minister,  Mr.  Wilson,  us«d  to  pity  the 
neglected  children  of  Giles  as  much  a-s  he  blam-ed  the 
wicked  parents.  He  one  day  picked  up  Dick,  who 
was  far  the  best  of  Giles's  bad  boys.  Dick  was  isi- 
tering  about  in  a  field  behind  the  parson's  garden,  in 
search  of  a  hen's  nest,  his  mother  having  ordered  him 
to  bring  home  a  few  eggs  that  night,  by  hook  or  by 
crook,  as  Giles  was  resolved  to  have  some  pancakes 
for  supper,  though  he  knew  that  eggs  were  a  penny 
a-piece.  Mr.  Wilson  had  long  been  d-esirous  of 
snatching  some  of  this  vagrant  family  from  ruin,  and 
his  chief  hopes  were  bent  on  Dick,  as  the  least  hack- 
neyed in  knaveiy.  He  had  once  given  him  a  pair  of 
new  shoes,  on  his  promising  to  go  to  school  next 
Sunday,  but  no  sooner  had  Rachel,  the  boy's  mother, 
got  the  shoes  into  her  clutches,  than  she  pawned 
them  for  a  bottle  of  gin,  and  ordered  the  boy  to  keep 
out  of  the  parson's  sight,  and  to  be  sure  to  play  his 
marbles  on  Sunday,  for  the  future,  at  the  other  end 
of  the  parish,  and  not  near  the  churchyard.  Mr. 
Wilson,  however,  picked  up  the  boy  once  more.  Tor 
it  was  not  his  way  to  despair  of  anybody.  Dick  was 
just  going  to  take  to  his  heels,  as  usual,  for  fear  the 
old  story  of  the  shoes  should  be  brought  forward,  but 
iSnding  he  could  not  get  off,  what  does  he  do  but  rua 
into  a  little  puddle  of  muddy  water  which  lay  be- 
tween him  and  the  parson,  tliat  the  sight  of  his  naked 
feet  might  not  bring  on  the  dreaded  subject.  Now  it 
happened  that  Mr.  Wilson  was  planting  a  little  field 
of  beans,  so  he  thought  this  a  good  ()i)i)ortunity  to 
employ  Dick,  and  he  told  him  he  had  got  some 
pretty  easy  work  for  him.  Dick  did  as  he  was  bid  : 
he  willingly  went  to  work,  and  readily  began  to 
plant  his  beans  with  despatcli  and  regularity  accord- 
ing to  the  directions  given  him. 

While  the  boy  was  busily  at  work  by  himself, 
Giles  happened  to  come  by,  having  been  skulking 


144  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

round  the  back  way  to  look  over  the  parson's  gaiden 
wall,  to  see  if  there  was  anything  worth  climbing 
over  for  on  the  ensuing  night.  He  spied  Dick,  and 
began  to  scold  him  for  working  for  the  stingy  old 
parson,  for  Giles  had  a  natural  antipathy  to  whatever 
belonged  to  the  church.  "What  has  he  promised 
thee  a-day?"  said  he,  "little  enough,  I  dare  say." 
"He  is  not  to  p-ay  me  by  the  day,"  said  Dick,  "but 
says  he  will  give  me  so  much  when  I  have  planted 
this  peck,  and  so  much  for  th-e  next."  "Oh,  oh! 
that  alters  the  case,"  said  Giles.  "  One  may,  indeed, 
get  a  trifle  by  this  sort  of  work.  I  hate  your  regular 
day-jobs,  where  one  can't  well  avoid  doing  one's  work 
for  one's  money.  Come,  give  me  a  handful  of  beans, 
I  will  teach  thee  how  to  plant  when  thou  art  paid  foi 
planting  by  the  peck.  All  we  have  to  do  in  that  case 
is  to  despatch  the  work  as  fast  as  we  can,  and  get  rid 
of  the  beans  with  all  speed;  and  as  to  the  seed  coming 
up  or  not,  that  is  no  business  of  ours ;  we  are  paid 
for  planting  not  for  growing.  At  the  rate  thou  goest 
on  thou  wouldst  not  get  sixpence  to-night.  Come 
along,  buiy  away."  So  saying,  he  took  his  hatful  of 
thi  seed,  and  where  Dick  had  been  ordered  to  set  one 
bean,  Giles  buried  a  dozen ;  of  course  the  beans 
were  soon  out.  But  though  the  peck  was  emptied, 
the  ground  was  unplanted.  But  cunning  Giles  knew 
this  could  not  be  found  out  till  the  time  when  the 
beans  might  be  expected  to  come  up,  "and  then, 
Dick,"  sajs  he,  " the  snails  and  the  mice  may  go 
shares  in  the  blaine,  or  we  can  lay  the  fault  on  the 
rooks  or  the  blackbirds."  So  saying,  he  sent  the  boy 
into  the  parsonage  to  receive  his  pay,  taking  care  to 
secure  about  a  quarter  of  the  peck  of  beans  for  his 
own  colt.  He  put  both  bag  and  beans  into  his  own 
pocket  to  carry  home,  bidding  Dick  tell  Mr.  Wilson 
that  he  had  planted  tke  beans  and  lost  the  bag. 

In  the  meantime  Giles's  other  boys  were  busy  in 
emptying  the  ponds  and  trout-sti-eams  in  the  neigh- 
boring manor.     They  would  steal  away  the  carp  and 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  145 

tench  when  they  were  no  bigger  than  gudgeons.  By 
this  untimely  depredation  they  plundered  the  owner 
of  his  property  without  enriching  themselves.  But 
the  pleasure  of  mischief  was  reward  enough.  These, 
and  a  hundred  other  little  thieveries,  they  committed 
with  such  dexterity,  that  old  Tim  Crib,  whose  son 
was  transported  last  assizes  for  sheep-stealing,  used  to 
be  often  reproaching  his  boys  that  Giles's  sons  were 
worth  a  hundred  of  such  blockheads  as  he  had ;  lor 
scarce  a  night  passed  but  Giles  had  sorae  little  com- 
fortable thing  for  supper  which  his  boys  had  pilfered 
in  the  day,  while  his  undutiful  dogs  never  stole  any- 
thing worth  having.  Giles,  in  the  meantime,  was 
busy  in  his  way;  but  as  busy  as  he  was  in  laying  his 
nets,  starting  coveys,  and  training  dogs,  he  always 
took  c«re  that  his  depredations  should  not  be  confined 
merely  to  game. 

Giles's  boj's  had  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  church, 
since  they  were  christened,  and  the  father  thought  he 
knew  his  own  interest  better  than  to  force  them  to 
it ;  for  church-time  was  the  season  of  their  hai-vest. 
Then  the  hen's  nests  were  searched,  a  stray  duck  was 
clapped  under  the  smock  frock,  the  tools  which  might 
have  been  left  by  chance  in  a  farm-yard,  were  picked 
up,  and  all  the  neighboring  pigeon-houses  were  thin- 
ned, so  that  Giles  used  to  boast  to  tawny  Rachel  his 
wife,  that  Sunday  was  to  them  the  most  profitable 
day  in  the  week.  With  her  it  was  certainly  the  most 
laborious  day,  as  she  always  did  her  washing  and 
ironing  on  the  Sunday  morning,  it  being,  as  she  said, 
the  only  leisure  day  she  had,  for  on  the  other  days 
she  went  about  the  country  telling  fortunes,  and  sell- 
ing dream-books  and  wicked  songs.  Neither  her  hus- 
band's nor  her  childreu's  clothes  were  ever  mended, 
and  if  Sunday,  her  idle  day,  had  not  come  about  once 
in  every  week,  it  is  likely  they  would  never  have  been 
washed  either.  You  might  however  see  her  as  you 
were  going  to  chtirch,  smoothing  her  own  rags  on 
ber  best  red  cloak,  which  she  always  used  for  her 
13 


146  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

ironing-iloth  on  Sundays,  for  her  cloak  when  she 
travelled,  and  for  her  blanket  at  night ;  such  a  wretch- 
ed manager  was  Rachel !  Among  her  other  articles 
of  trade,  one  was  to  make  and  sell  peppermint,  and 
other  distilled  waters.  These  she  had  the  cheap  art 
of  making  without  trouble  and  without  expense,  for 
she  made  them  without  herbs  and  without  a  still. 
Her  way  was,  to  fill  so  many  quart  bottles  with  plain 
water,  putting  a  spoonful  of  mint  water  in  the  mouth 
of  each  :  these  she  corked  down  with  rosin,  canying 
to  each  customer  a  phial  of  real  distilled  water  to  taste 
by  way  of  sample.  This  was  so  good  that  her  bottles 
were  commonly  bought  up  without  being  opened; 
but  if  any  suspicion  arose,  and  she  was  forced  to  un- 
cork a  bottle,  by  the  few  drops  of  distilled  water  lying 
at  the  top,  she  even  then  escaped  detection,  and  took 
care  to  get  out  of  reach  before  the  bottle  was  opened 
a  second  time.  She  was  too  prudent  ever  to  go  twice 
to  the  same  house. 

The  Upright  Magistrate. 

There  is  hardly  any  petty  mischief  that  is  not  con- 
nected with  the  life  of  a  poacher.  Mr.  Wilson  was 
aware  of  this ;  he  was  not  only  a  pious  clergyman, 
out  an  upright  justice.  He  used  to  say,  that  people 
who  were  truly  conscientious,  must  be  so  in  small 
things  as  well  as  in  great  ones,  or  they  would  destroy 
the  efiect  of  their  own  precepts,  and  their  example 
would  not  be  of  general  use.  For  this  reason  he 
never  would  accept  of  a  hare  or  a  partridge  from  any 
unqualified  person  in  the  parish.  He  did  not  content 
himself  with  shuftling  the  thing  off  by  asking  ques- 
tions, and  pretending  to  take  it  for  granted  in  a  gen- 
eral way  that  the  game  was  fairly  come  at ;  bat  he 
used  to  say,  that  by  receiving  the  booty  he  connived  at 
a  crime,  made  himself  a  sharer  in  it ;  and  if  he  gave  a 
present  to  the  man  who  brought  it,  he  even  tempted 
him  to  repeat  the  fault. 

One  day  poor  Jack  Weston,  an  honest  fellow  in  the 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  147 

neighborhood,  whom  Mr.  Wilson  had  kindly  visited 
and  relieved  in  a  long  sickness,  from  which  he  was 
but  just  recovered,  was  brought  before  him  as  he  was 
sitting  on  the  justice's  bench ;  Jack  was  accused  of 
having  knocked  down  a  hare  ;  and  of  all  the  birds  in 
the  air  who  should  the  informer  be  but  black  Giles 
the  poacher  ?  Mr.  Wilson  was  grieved  at  the  charge  ; 
he  had  a  great  regard  for  Jack,  but  h*  had  still  a 
greater  regard  for  the  law.  The  poor  fellow  pleaded 
gnilty.  He  did  not  deny  the  fact,  but  said  he  did  not 
consider  it  as  a  crime,  for  he  did  not  think  game  was 
private  property,  and  he  owned  he  had  a  strong  temp- 
tation for  doing  what  he  had  done,  which  he  hoped 
would  plead  his  excuse.  The  justice  desired  to 
know  what  this  temptation  was. — "  Sir,"  said  the 
poor  fellow,  "  You  know  I  was  given  over  this  spring 
in  a  bad  fever.  I  had  no  friend  in  the  world  but  you, 
sir.  Under  God  you  saved  my  life  by  your  charitable 
relief;  and  I  trust  also  you  may  have  helped  to  save 
my  soul  by  your  prayers  and  your  good  advice  ;  for, 
by  the  grace  of  God,  I  have  turned  over  a  new  leaf 
since  that  sickness. 

"I  know  I  can  never  make  you  amende  for  all  your 
goodness,  but  I  thought  it  would  be  some  comfort  to 
my  full  heart  if  I  could  but  once  give  you  some  little 
token  of  my  gratitude.  So  I  had  trained  a  pair  of 
nice  turtle  doves  for  Madam  Wilson,  but  they  were 
stolen  from  me,  sir,  and  I  do  suspect  black  Giles  stole 
them.  Yesterday  morning,  sir,  as  I  was  crawling  out 
to  my  work,  for  I  am  still  but  very  weak,  a  fine  hare 
ran  across  my  path.  I  did  not  stay  to  consider  wheth- 
er it  was  wrong  to  kill  a  hare,  but  I  felt  it  was  riglit 
to  show  my  gratitude  ;  so,  sir,  without  a  moment's 
thought  I  did  knock  down  the  hare,  which  I  was  go- 
ing to  carry  to  your  worship,  because  I  knew  madam 
was  fond  of  hare.  I  am  truly  sorry  for  my  fault,  and 
will  submit  to  whatever  punishment  your  worship 
may  please  to  inflict." 

Mr.  Wilson   was  nmch  moved  with  this  hones* 


148  DOMESTIC    TALKS    AND    ALLEG0KIK3. 

confession,  and  touched  with  the  poor  fellow's  grati 
tude.  What  added  to  the  etiect  of  the  storj',  was  the 
weak  condition  and  pale  sickly  looks  of  the  offender 
But  this  worthy  magistrate  never  suffered  his  feeling 
to  bias  his  integrity  ;  he  knew  that  he  did  not  sit  on 
that  bench  to  indulge  pity,  but  to  administer  justice , 
and  while  he  was  soriy  for  the  offender,  he  would 
never  justify  the  offence.  "John,"  said  he,  "lam 
surprised  that  you  could  for  a  moment  forget  that  I 
never  accept  any  gift  which  causes  the  giver  to  break 
a  law.  On  Sunday  I  teach  you  from  the  pulpit  the 
laws  of  God,  whose  minister  I  am.  At  present  I  fill 
the  chair  of  the  magistrate  to  enforce  and  execute  the 
laws  of  the  land.  Between  those  and  the  others 
there  is  more  connexion  than  you  are  aware.  I  thank 
you,  John,  for  your  affection  to  me,  and  I  admire  your 
gratitude ;  but  I  must  not  allow  either  affection  or 
gratitude  to  be  brought  as  a  plea  for  a  wrong  action. 
It  is  not  your  business  nor  mine,  John,  to  settle 
whether  the  game  laws  are  good  or  bad.  Till  they 
are  repealed  we  must  obey  them.  Many,  I  doubt 
not,  break  these  laws  through  ignorance,  and  many,  I 
am  certain,  who  would  not  dare  to  steal  a  goose  or  a 
turkey,  make  no  scruple  of  knocking  down  a  hare  or 
a  partridge.  You  wall  hereafter  think  yourself  happy 
that  this  your  first  attempt  has  proved  unsuccessful, 
as  I  trust  you  are  too  honest  a  fellow  ever  to  intend 
to  turn  poacher.  With  poaching  much  moral  evil  is 
connected  ;  a  habit  of  nightly  depredation  ;  a  custom 
of  prowling  in  the  dark  for  prey  produces  in  time  a 
disrelish  for  honest  labor.  He  whose  first  offence  was 
committed  without  much  thought  or  evil  intention, 
if  he  happens  to  succeed  a  few  times  in  canying  off 
his  booty  undiscovered,  grows  bolder  and  bolder ; 
and  when  he  fancies  there  is  no  shame  attending  it, 
he  veiy  soon  gets  to  persuade  himself  that  there  is 
also  no  sin.  While  some  people  pretend  a  scruple 
about  stealing  a  sheep,  they  partly  live  by  plundering 
f  warrens.     But  remember  that  the  warrener  pays  a 


GILES    THE    POACHEK.  l4y 

high  rent,  and  tLat  therefore  his  rabbits  are  as  much 
his  property  as  his  sheep.  Do  not  then  deceive  your- 
selves with  these  false  distinctions.  All  property  ia 
sacred,  and  as  the  laws  of  the  land  are  intended  to 
fence  in  that  property,  he  who  brings  up  his  children 
to  break  down  any  of  these  fences,  brings  them  up  to 
certain  sin  and  ruin.  He  who  begins  with  robbing 
orchards,  rabbit-warrens,  and  fish-ponds,  will  probably 
end  with  horse-stealing  or  highway  robbery.  Poach- 
ing is  a  regular  apprenticeship  to  bolder  crimes.  He 
whom  I  may  commit  as  a  boy  to  sit  in  the  stocks  foi" 
killing  a  partridge,  may  he  likely  to  end  at  the  gallows 
for  killing  a  man. 

"  Observe,  you  who  now  hear  me,  the  strictness 
and  impartiality  of  justice.  I  know  Giles  to  be  a 
worthless  fellow,  yet  it  is  my  duty  to  take  his  infor- 
mation ;  I  know  Jack  Weston  to  be  an  honest  youth, 
yet  I  must  be  obliged  to  make  him  pay  the  penalty. 
Giles  is  a  bad  man,  but  he  can  prove  this  fact;  Jack 
is  a  worthy  lad,  but  he  has  committed  this  fault.  I 
am  sorry  for  you.  Jack ;  but  do  not  let  it  grieve  you 
that  Giles  has  played  worse  tricks  a  hundred  times, 
and  yet  got  off,  while  you  were  detected  in  the  very 
first  offence,  for  that  would  be  grieving  because  you 
are  not  as  great  a  rogue  as  Giles.  At  this  moment 
you  think  your  good  luck  is  very  unequal ;  but  all 
this  will  one  day  turn  out  in  your  favor.  Giles  is  not 
the  more  a  favorite  of  Heaven  because  he  has  hither- 
to escaped  Botany  Bay  or  the  hulks  ;  nor  is  it  any 
mark  of  God's  displeasure  against  you,  John,  that 
you  were  found  out  in  your  very  first  attempt." 

Here  the  good  justice  left  off  speaking,  and  no 
one  could  contradict  the  truth  of  what  he  had  said. 
Weston  humbly  submitted  to  his  sentence,  but  he 
was  very  poor,  and  knew  not  where  to  raise  the 
money  to  pay  liis  fine.  His  character  had  always 
been  so  fair,  that  several  farmers  present,  kindly 
agreed  to  advance  a  trifle  each  to  prevent  his  being 
sent  to  prison,  and  he  thankfully  promised  to  work 


150  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

out  the  debt.  The  justice  himself,  though  he  coul(H 
not  soften  the  law,  yet  showed  Weston  so  niuch 
kindness  that  he  was  enabled  before  the  year  was  out, 
to  get  out  of  this  difficulty.  He  began  to  think  more 
seriously  tlianhe  hadeveryet  done,  and  grew  to  abhor 
poaching,  not  merely  from  fear,  but  from  principle. 
We  shall  see  whether  poaching  Giles  always  got 
off  so  successfully.  Worldly  prosperity  is  no  sure 
sign  of  goodness.  The  "  triumph  of  the  wicked  is 
short." 

History  of  Widow  Brown's  Apple-  Tree. 
As  to  Giles  and  his  boys,  old  Widow  Brown  has 
good  reason  to  remember  their  dexterity.  Poor 
woman!  she  had  a  fine  little  bed  of  onions  in  her 
neat  and  well-kept  garden ;  she  was  veiy  fond  of  her 
onions,  and  many  a  rheumatism  has  she  caught  by 
kneeling  down  to  weed  them  in  a  damp  day,  notwith- 
standing the  little  flannel  cloak  and  the  bit  of  an  old 
mat  which  Madam  Wilson  gave  her,  because  the  old 
woman  would  needs  weed  in  wet  weather.  Her 
onions  she  always  carefully  treasured  up  for  her  win- 
ter's store ;  for  an  onion  makes  a  little  broth  very 
relishing,  and  is  indeed  the  only  savoiy  thing  poor 
people  are  used  to  get.  She  had  also  a  small  orchard, 
containing  about  a  dozen  apple-trees,  with  which  in 
a  good  year  she  had  been  known  to  make  a  couple  of 
barrels  of  cider,  which  she  sold  to  her  landlord 
toward  paying  her  rent,  besides  having  a  little  keg 
which  she  was  able  to  keep  back  for  her  own  drink- 
ing. Well !  would  you  believe  it,  Giles  and  his  boys 
marked  both  onions  and  apples  for  their  own  ;  indeed, 
a  man  who  stole  so  many  rabbits  from  the  warrener, 
was  likely  enough  to  s^eal  onions  for  sauce.  One  day 
when  the  widow  was  abroad  cm  a  little  business, 
Giles  and  his  boys  made  a  clear  riddance  of  the  onion 
bed ;  and  when  they  had  pulled  up  eveiy  single 
onion,  they  then  turned  a  couple  of  pigs  into  the 
garden,  who,  allured  by  the  smell,  tore  up  the  bed  in 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  151 

such  a  manner,  that  the  widow,  when  she  cams 
home,  had  not  the  least  doubt  but  the  pigs  had  been 
the  thieves.  To  confirm  this  opinion,  they  took  care 
to  leave  the  latch  half  open  at  one  end  of  the  gar 
den,  and  to  break  down  a  slight  fence  at  the  other 
end. 

I  wonder  how  anybody  can  find  in  his  heart  not  to 
pity  and  respect  poor  old  widows.  There  is  some- 
thing so  forlorn  and  helpless  in  their  condition,  that 
methinks  it  is  a  call  on  everybody,  men,  women,  and 
childi-en,  to  do  them  all  the  kind  seiTices  that  fall  in 
their  way.  Surely  their  having  no  one  to  take  their 
part,  is  an  additional  reason  for  kind-hearted  people 
not  to  hurt  and  oppress  them.  But  it  was  this  very 
reason  which  led  Giles  to  do  this  woman  an  injii^ry. 
With  what  a  touching  simplicity  is  it  recorded  in 
scripture,  of  the  youth  whom  our  blessed  Savior 
raised  from  the  dead,  that  he  was  the  only  sou  of  his 
mother,  and  she  a  widow  ! 

It  happened  unluckily  for  poor  Widow  Brown  that 
her  cottage  stood  quite  alone.  On  several  mornings 
together,  for  roguery  gets  up  much  earlier  than  in- 
dustry, Giles  and  his  boys  stole  regularly  into  her 
orchard,  followed  by  their  jack-asses.  She  was  so 
deaf  that  she  could  not  hear  the  asses  if  they  had 
brayed  ever  so  loud,  and  to  this  Giles  trusted  ;  for  he 
was  very  cautious  in  his  rogueries,  since  he  could  not 
otherwise  have  contrived  so  long  to  keep  out  of  prison  : 
for  though  he  was  almost  always  suspected,  he  had 
seldom  been  taken  up,  and  never  convicted.  The 
boys  used  to  fill  their  bags,  load  their  asses,  and  then 
march  off;  and  if  in  their  way  to  the  town  where  the 
apples  were  to  be  sold,  they  chanced  to  pass  by  one 
of  their  neighbors  who  might  be  likely  to  suspect 
them,  they  then  all  at  once  began  to  scream  out. 

Buy  my  coal ! — buy  my  sand  !" 

Besides  the  trees  in  her  orchard,  poor  Widow 
Brown  had  in  her  small  garden  one  apple-true  ])ar- 
ticularly  fine  ;  it  was  a  red-streak,  so  tempting  and 


152  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

SO  lovely,  that  Giles's  family  had  watched  iv  with 
longing  eyes,  till  at  last  they  resolved  on  a  plan  for 
carrying  oil'  all  this  fine  fniit  in  their  bags.  But  it 
was  a  nice  point  to  manage.  The  tree  stood  directly 
under  her  chamber  window,  so  that  there  was  some 
danger  that  she  might  spy  them  at  the  work  They 
therefore  determined  to  wait  till  the  next  Sunday 
morning,  when  they  knew  she  would  not  fail  to  be 
at  church.  Sunday  came,  and  during  service  Giles 
attended.  It  was  a  lone  house,  as  I  said  before,  and 
the  rest  of  the  parish  were  safe  at  church.  In  a  trice 
the  tree  was  cleared,  the  bags  were  filled,  the  asses 
were  whipped,  the  thieves  were  off,  the  coast  was 
clear,  and  all  was  safe  and  quiet  by  the  time  the  ser- 
mon was  over. 

Unluckily,  however,  it  happened  that  this  tree  was 
so  beautiful,  and  the  fruit  so  fine,  that  the  people,  as 
they  used  to  pass  to  and  from  the  church,  were  very 
apt  to  stop  and  admire  Widow  Brown's  red-streaks  ; 
and  some  of  the  farmers  rather  envied  her  that  in  that 
scarce  season,  when  they  hardly  expected  to  make  a 
pie  out  of  a  large  orchard,  she  was  likely  to  make  a 
cask  of  cider  from  a  single  tree.  I  am  afraid,  indeed, 
if  I  must  speak."  out,  she  herself  rather  set  her  heart 
too  much  upon  this  fruit,  and  had  felt  as  much  pride 
in  her  tree  as  gratitude  to  a  good  Providence  for  it ; 
but  this  failing  of  hers  was  no  excuse  for  Giles.  The 
covetousness  of  this  thief  had  for  once  got  the  better 
of  his  caution  ;  the  tree  was  too  completely  stripped, 
though  the  youngest  boy  Dick  did  beg  hard  that  his 
father  would  leave  the  poor  old  woman  enough  for  a 
few  dumplings  ;  and  when  Giles  ordered  Dick  in  his 
turn  to  shake  the  tree,  the  boy  did  it  so  gently  that 
hardly  any  apples  fell,  for  which  he  got  a  good  stroke 
of  the  stick  with  which  the  old  man  was  beating  down 
the  apples. 

The  neighbors  on  their  return  from  church  stopped 
as  usual,  but  it  was  not,  alas  !  to  admire  the  apples, 
'or  apples  there  were  none  left,  but  to  lament  the 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  153 

robbery,  and  console  the  widow.  JMeantime  the  red- 
streaks  were  safely  lodged  in  Giles's  hovel,  under  a 
few  bundles  of  new  hay  which  he  had  contrived  to 
pull  from  the  farmer's  mow  the  night  before,  for  the 
use  of  his  jack-asses.  Such  a  stir,  however,  began  to 
be  made  about  the  widow's  apple-tree,  that  Giles, 
who  knew  how  much  his  character  had  laid  him  open 
to  suspicion,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  people  safe  in 
church  again  in  the  afternoon,  ordered  his  boys  to 
carry  each  a  hatful  of  the  apples,  and  thrust  them  in 
a  little  casement  window  which  happened  to  be  open 
in  the  house  of  Samuel  Price,  a  very  honest  carpen- 
ter in  that  parish,  who  was  at  church  with  his  whole 
family.  Giles's  plan,  by  this  contrivance,  was  to  lay 
the  theft  on  Price's  sons  in  case  the  thing  should 
come  to  be  further  inquired  into.  Here  Dick  put  in 
a  word,  and  begged  and  prayed  his  father  not  to  force 
them  to  cany  the  apples  to  Price's.  But  all  that  he 
got  by  his  begging  was  such  a  knock  as  had  nearly 
laid  him  on  the  earth.  "  What,  you  cowardly  ras- 
cal," said  Giles,  "  you  will  go  and  'peach,  I  suppose, 
and  get  your  father  sent  to  jail." 

Poor  Widow  Brown,  though  her  trouble  had  made 
her  still  weaker  than  she  was,  went  to  church  again 
in  the  afternoon  :  indeed,  she  rightly  thought  that 
her  being  in  trouble  was  a  new  reason  why  she  ought 
to  go.  During  the  sen'ice  she  tried  with  all  her 
might  not  to  think  of  her  red-streaks^  and  whenever 
they  would  come  into  her  head,  she  took  up  her 
prayer-book  directly,  and  so  she  forgot  them  a  little  ; 
and  indeed,  she  found  herself  much  easier  when  she 
came  out  of  the  church  than  when  she  went  in,  an 
effect  so  commonly  preduced  by  prayer,  thatmethinks 
it  is  a  pity  people  do  not  try  it  oftencr.  Now  it  hap- 
pened oddly  enough,  that  on  that  Sunday,  of  all  the 
Sundays  in  the  year,  the  widow  should  call  in  to  rest 
a  little  at  Samuel  Price's,  to  tell  over  again  the  lament- 
able story  of  the  apples,  and  to  consult  with  hiih  how 
the  thief  might  be  brought  to  justice.    But  O,  reader ! 


154  DOMESTIC    TALES    AI^D    ALLEGORIES. 

guess  if  you  can,  for  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell  you, 
what  was  her  surprise,  when,  on  going  into  Samuel 
Price's  kitchen,  she  saw  her  own  red-streaks  lying  on 
the  window  !  The  apples  were  of  a  sort  too  remark- 
able for  color,  shape,  and  size,  to  be  mistaken-  There 
was  not  such  another  tree  in  the  parish.  Widow 
Brown  immediately  screamed  out,  "  Alas-a-day,  as 
sure  as  can  be,  here  are  my  red-streaks;  I  could 
swear  to  them  in  any  court."  Samuel  Price,  who 
believed  his  sons  to  be  as  honest  as  himself,  was 
shocked  and  troubled  at  the  sight.  .He  knew  he  had 
no  red-streaks  of  his  own  ;  he  knew  there  were  no 
apples  in  the  window  when  he  went  to  church :  he 
did  verily  believe  these  apples  to  be  the  widow's. 
But  hoAv  they  came  there  he  could  not  possibly  guess. 
He  called  for  Tom,  the  only  one  of  his  sons  who 
now  lived  at  home.  Tom  was  at  the  Sunday  school, 
which  he  had  never  once  missed  since  Mr.  Wilson 
the  minister  had  set  up  one  in  the  parish.  Was  such 
a  boy  likely  to  do  such  a  deed  ? 

A  crowd  was  by  this  time  got  about  Price's  door, 
among  which  were  Giles  and  his  boys,  who  had  al- 
ready taken  care  to  spread  the  news  that  Tom  Price 
was  the  thief.  Most  people  were  unwilling  to  believe 
it.  His  character  was  very  good,  but  appearances 
were  strongly  against  him.  Mr.  Wilson,  who  had 
stayed  to  christen  a  child,  now  came  in.  He  was 
much  concerned  that  Tom  Price,  the  best  boy  in  his 
school,  should  stand  accused  of  such  a  crime.  He 
sent  for  the  boj',  examined,  and  cross-examined  him. 
No  marks  of  guilt  appeared.  But  still  though  he 
pleaded  not  guilty,  there  lay  the  red-streaks  in  his 
father's  window.  All  the  idle  fellows  in  the  place, 
who  were  most  likely  to  have  committed  such  a  theft 
themselves,  were  the  very  people  who  fell  with  ven- 
geance on  poor  Tom.  The  wicked  seldom  give  any 
quarter.  "  This  is  one  of  your  sanctified  ones  I"  cried 
they.  "  This  was  all  the  good  that  Sunday  schools 
did!     For  their  parts  they  never  saw  any  good  come 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  155 

by  religion.  Sunday  was  the  only  day  for  a  little 
pastime,  and  if  poor  boys  must  be  shut  up  with  their 
godly  books,  when  they  ought  to  be  out  taking  a  little 
pleasure,  it  was  no  wonder  they  made  themselvea 
amends  by  such  tricks."  Another  said  he  should  like 
to  see  Parson  Wilson's  righteous  one  well  whipped. 
A  third  hoped  he  would  be  clapped  in  the  stocks  for 
a  young  hypocrite  as  he  was  ;  while  old  Giles,  who 
thought  the  only  way  to  avoid  suspicion  was  by  being 
more  violent  than  the  rest,  declared,  that  "  he  hoped 
the  young  dog  would  be  transported  for  life." 

Mr.  Wilson  was  too  wise  and  too  just  to  proceed 
against  Tom  without  full  proof.  He  declared  the 
crime  was  a  heavy  one,  and  he  feared  that  heavy  must 
be  the  punishment.  Tom,  who  kne-w  his  own  inno- 
cence, earnestly  prayed  to  God  that  it  might  be  made 
to  appear  as  clear  as  the  noonday  ;  and  very  feiTcnt 
were  his  secret  devotions  on  that  night. 

Black  Giles  passed  his  night  in  a  very  diflercnt 
manner.  He  set  off  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  with  his 
sons  and  their  jack-asses,  laden  with  their  stolen  goods. 
As  such  a  cry  was  raised  about  the  apples,  he  did  not 
think  it  safe  to  keep  them  longer  at  home,  but  re- 
solved to  go  and  sell  them  at  the  next  town,  borrow- 
ing without  leave  a  lame  colt  out  of  the  moor  to  assist 
in  canying  Off  his  booty. 

Giles  and  his  eldest  sons  had  rare  sport  all  the  way 
in  thinking,  that  while  they  were  enjoying  the  profit 
of  their  plunder,  Tom  Price  would  be  whipped  round 
the  market-place  at  least,  if  not  sent  beyond  sea. 
But  the  younger  boy  Dick,  who  had  naturally  a  ten- 
der heart,  though  hardened  by  his  long  familiarity 
with  sin,  could  not  help  crying,  when  he  thought 
that  Tom  Price  might,  perhaps,  be  transported  for  a 
crime  which  he  himself  had  helped  to  commit.  He 
h.ad  had  no  compunction  about  the  robbery,  for  he 
had  not  been  instructed  m  the  great  principles  of  truth 
Jind  justice  ;  nor  would  he  therefore,  perhaps,  have 
had  much  remorse  about  accusing  an  innocent  boy. 


156  DOMESTIC    TALES    A>D    ALLEGORIES 

But  though  utterly  devoid  of  principle,  he  had  som« 
remains  of  natural  feeling  and  of  gratitude.  Tom 
Price  Iiad  often  given  him  a  bit  of  his  own  bread  and 
cheese  ;  and  once,  when  Dick  was  like  to  be  drowned, 
Tom  had  jumped  into  the  pond  with  his  clothes  on, 
and  saved  his  life  when  he  was  just  sinking  ;  the  re- 
membrance of  all  this  made  his  heart  heavy.  He 
said  nothing;  but  as  he  trotted  barefoot  after  the 
asses,  he  heard  his  father  and  brothei-s  laugh  at  having 
outwitted  the  godly  ones  ;  and  he  grieved  to  think 
how  poor  Tom  would  suffer  for  his  wickedness,  yet 
fear  kept  him  silent;  they  called  him  a  sulky  dog, 
and  lashed  the  asses  till  they  bled. 

In  the  meantime  Tom  Price  kept  up  his  spirits  as 
well  as  he  could.  He  worked  hard  all  day,  and  prayed 
heartily  night  and  morning.  "  It  is  true,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "  I  am  not  guilty  of  this  sin  ;  but  let  this  ac- 
cusation set  me  on  examining  myself,  and  truly  re- 
penting of  all  my  other  sins  ;  for  I  find  enoitgh  to 
repent  of,  though  I  thank  God  I  did  not  steal  the 
widow's  apples." 

At  length  Sunday  came,  and  Tom  went  to  school 
as  usual.  As  soon  as  he  walked  in,  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  whispering  and  laughing  among  the  worst  of 
the  boys  ;  and  he  overheard  them  say,  "  Who  would 
have  tliought  it  ?  This  is  master's  favorite  I — This  is 
Parson  Wilson's  sober  Tommy  !  We  sha'n't  have 
Tommy  thrown  in  our  teeth  again  if  we  go  to  get  a 
bird's  nest,  or  gather  a  few  nuts  on  a  Sunday." 
"  Your  demure  ones  are  always  hypocrites,"  says  an- 
other. "  The  still  sow  suck  all  the  milk,"  says  a 
■-hird. 

Giles's  family  had  always  kept  clear  of  the  school. 
Dick,  indeed,  had  sometimes  wished  to  go  ;  not  that 
he  had  much  sense  of  sin,  or  desire  after  goodness, 
but  he  thought  if  he  could  once  read,  he  might  rise 
in  the  world,  and  not  be  forced  to  drive  asses  all  his 
life.  Through  this  whole  Saturday  night  he  could 
not  sleep.     He  longed  to  know  what  would  be  done 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  157 

to  Tom.  He  began  to  wish  to  go  to  school,  but  he 
had  not  courage  :  sin  is  very  cowardly.  So  on  the 
Sunday  morning  he  went  and  sat  himself  down  under 
the  church  wall.  Mr.  Wilson  passed  by.  It  was 
not  his  way  to  reject  the  most  wicked,  till  he  had 
tried  eveiy  means  to  bring  them  over  ;  and  even  then 
he  pitied  and  prayed  for  them.  He  had,  indeed,  long 
left  oti  talking  to  Giles's  sons;  but  seeing  Dick  sitting 
by  himself,  he  once  more  spoke  to  him,  desired  him  to 
leave  oft'  his  vagabond  life,  and  go  with  him  into  the 
school.  The  boy  hung  down  his  head,  but  made  no 
answer.  He  did  not,  however,  either  rise  up  and  run 
away,  or  look  sulky,  as  he  used  to  do.  The  minister 
desired  him  once  more  to  go.  "  Sir,"  said  the  boy, 
"  I  can't  go  ;  I  am  so  big  I  am  ashamed." — "  The 
bigger  you  are  the  less  time  you  have  to  lose."^ 
"  But,  sir,  I  can't  read." — "Then  it  is  high  time  you 
should  learn." — "  I  should  be  ashamed  to  begin  to 
learn  my  letters." — "  The  shame  is  not  in  beginning 
to  learn  them,  but  in  being  contented  never  to  know 
them." — "But,  sir,  I  am  so  ragged!" — "God  looks 
at  the  heart,  and  not  at  the  coat." — "  But,  sir,  I  have 
no  shoes  and  stockings." — "So  much  the  worse.  I 
remember  who  gave  you  both." — Here  Dick  colored. 
"  It  is  bad  to  want  shoes  and  stockings  ;  but  still,  if  you 
can  drive  your  asses  a  dozen  miles  without  them,  you 
may  certainly  walk  a  hundred  yards  to  school  without 
them." — "But,  sir,  the  good  boys  will  hate  me,  and 
won't  speak  to  me." — "  Good  boys  hate  nobody ;  and 
as  to  not  speaking  to  you,  to  be  sure  they  will  not 
keep  your  company  while  you  go  on  in  your  present 
evil  courses  ;  but  as  soon  as  they  see  you  wish  to  re- 
form, they  will  help  you,  and  pity  you,  and  teacli 
you;  and  so  come  along." — Here  Mr.  Wilson  took 
this  dirty  boy  by  the  hand,  and  gently  jiulled  him  for- 
ward, kindly  talking  to  him  all  the  way  in  the  most 
condescending  manner. 

How  the  whole  school  stared  to  sec   Dick  Giles 
come  in !     No   one,  however    dared  to  say  what  he 
14 


158  DOMESTIC    TALE3    AND    ALLEGORIEf. 

thought.  The  business  went  on,  and  Dick  slunk  into 
a  corner,  partly  to  hide  his  rags,  and  partly  to  hide 
his  sin,  for  last  Sunday's  transaction  sat  hea\'y  on  his 
heart,  not  because  he  had  stolen  the  apples,  but  be- 
cause Tom  Price  had  been  accused.  This,  I  say, 
made  him  slink  behind.  Poor  boy  !  he  little  thought 
there  was  O.VE  saw  him  who  sees  all  things,  and 
from  wlwse  eye  no  hole  nor  corner  can  hide  the  sin- 
ner; "  for  he  is  about  our  bed,  and  about  our  path, 
and  spieth  out  all  our  ways." 

It  was  the  custom  in  that  school,  and  an  excellent 
custom  it  is,  for  the  master,  who  was  a  good  and  wise 
man,  to  mark  down  in  his  pocketbook  all  the  events 
of  the  week,  that  he  might  turn  them  to  some  ac- 
count in  his  Sunday  evening  instructions,  such  as 
any  useful  story  in  the  newspaper,  any  account  of 
boys  being  drowned  as  they  were  out  in  a  pleasure- 
boat  on  Sundays,  any  sudden  death  in  the  parish,  or 
any  other  remarkable  visitation  of  Providence,  inso- 
much, that  many  young  people  in  the  place,  who  did 
not  belong  to  the  school,  and  many  parents  also,  used 
to  drop  in  for  an  hour  on  a  Sunday  evening,  when 
they  were  sure  to  hear  something  profitable.  The 
minister  greatly  approved  this  practice,  and  often 
called  in  himself,  which  was  a  great  support  to  the 
master,  and  encouragement  to  the  people  who  at- 
tended. 

The  master  had  taken  a  deep  concern  in  the  story 
of  Widow  Brown's  apple-tree.  He  could  not  believe 
Tom  Price  was  guilty,  nor  dared  he  pronounce  him 
innocent,  but  he  resolved  to  turn  the  instructions  of 
the  present  evening  to  this  subject.  He  began  thus  : 
"  My  dear  boys,  however  light  some  of  you  may 
make  of  robbing  an  orchard,  yet  I  have  often  told  you 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  little  sin,  if  it  be  wilful  or 
habitual.  I  wish  now  to  explain  to  you,  also,  that 
there  is  hardly  such  a  thing  as  a  single  solitaiy  sin. 
You  know  I  teach  you  not  merely  to  repeat  the 
commandments  as  an  exercise  for  your  memoiy,  but 


GILES    THE    POACHER.  159 

as  a  rule  for  your  conduct.  If  you  were  to  come 
here  only  to  learn  to  read  and  spell  on  a  Sunday,  I 
should  think  that  was  not  employing  God's  day  foi 
God's  work,  but  I  teach  you  to  read  that  you  may, 
by  this  means,  come  so  to  understand  the  Bible  and 
the  Catechism,  as  to  make  every  text  in  the  one,  and 
every  question  and  answer  in  the  other,  to  be  so  fixed 
in  your  hearts  that  they  may  bring  forth  in  you  the 
fruits  of  good  living." 

Master.  How  many  commandments  are  there  ? 

Boy.  Ten. 

Master.  How  many  commandments  did  that  boy 
break  who  stole  Widow  Brown's  apples  ? 

Boy.  Only  one,  master,  the  eighth. 

Master.  What  is  the  eighth  ? 

Boy.   Thou  shall  not  steal. 

Master.  And  you  are  very  sure  that  this  was  the 
only  one  he  broke  ?  Now  suppose  I  could  prove  to 
you  that  he  probably  broke  not  less  than  six  out  of 
those  ten  commandments,  which  the  great  Lord  of 
heaven  himself  stooped  down  from  his  eternal  glory 
to  deliver  to  men,  would  you  not,  then,  think  it  a  ter- 
rible thing  to  steal,  whether  apples  or  guineas  ? 

Boy.  Yes,  master. 

Master.  I  will  put  the  case.  Some  wicked  boy 
has  robbed  Widow  Brown's  orchard.  Here  the  eyes 
of  every  one  were  turned  on  poor  Tom  Price,  except 
those  of  Dick  Giles,  who  fixed  his  on  the  ground. 
I  accuse  no  one,  continued  the  master,  Tom  Price  is 
a  good  boy,  and  was  not  missing  at  the  time  of  the 
robbery  ;  these  are  two  reasons  why  I  j)resuine  that 
he  is  innocent ;  but  whoever  it  was,  you  allow  that 
by  stealing  these  apples  he  broke  the  eighth  com- 
mandment ? 

Boy.  Yes,  master. 

Master.  On  what  day  were  these  apples  stolen  ? 

Boy.  On  Sunday. 

Master.  What  is  the  fourth  commandment? 

Boy.  Thou  shalt  keep  holy  the  sabbath-day. 


IGO  DOMESTIC    TAT-ES    AND    ALLEGORIES 

Master.  Does  that  person  keep  Loly  the  sabbath- 
day  who  loiters  in  an  orchard  on  Sunday,  when  he 
should  be  at  church,  and  steals  apples  \vhen  he 
ought  to  be  saying  his  prayers  1 

Boy.  No,  master. 

Master.  What  command  does  he  bi-eak  ? 

Boy.  the  fourth. 

Master.  Suppose  this  boy  had  parents  who  had 
gent  him  to  church,  and  that  he  had  disobeyed  them 
by  not  going,  would  that  be  keeping  the  huh  com- 
mandment ? 

Boy.  No,  master,  for  the  fifth  commandment  says, 
Thou,  shall  honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother. 

This  was  the  only  part  of  the  case  in  which  poor 
JDick  Giles's  heart  did  not  smite  him;  he  knew  he 
had  disobeyed  no  father — for  his  father,  alas  !  was 
still  wickeder  than  himself,  and  had  brought  him  up 
to  commit  the  sin.  But  what  a  wretched  comfort 
vv^as  this  !     The  master  went  on. 

Master.  Suppose  this  boy  earnestly  coveted  this 
fruit,  though  it  belonged  to  another  person,  would 
that  be  right  ? 

Boy.  No,  master,  for  the  tenth  commandment  says, 
Thou  shall  not  covet. 

Master.  Very  well.  Here  are  four  of  God's  pos- 
itive commands  already  broken.  Now  do  you  think 
thieves  ever  scruple  to  use  wicked  words  ? 

Boy.  I  am  afraid  not,  master. 

Here  Dick  Giles  was  not  so  hardened  but  that  he 
remembered  how  many  curses  had  passed  between 
him  and  his  father  while  they  were  filling  the  bags, 
and  he  was  afraid  to  look  up.     The  master  went  on. 

I  will  now  go  one  step  further.  If  the  thief,  to  all 
his  other  sins,  has  added  that  of  accusing  the  inno- 
cent to  save  liimself,  if  he  should  break  the  ninth 
commandment,  by  bearing  false  witness  against  a 
harmless  neighbor,  then  six  commandments  are  broken 
for  an  apple!  But  if  it  be  otherwise,  if  Tom  Price 
should  be  found  guilty,  it  is  not  his  good  charactei 


GILE3   THE    POACHER.  161 

shall  save  hmi.  I  shall  shed  tears  over  him,  but  pun- 
ish him  I  must,  and  that  severely."  "  No,  that  you 
sha'n't,"  roared  out  Dick  Giles,  who  sprung  from  his 
hiding-place,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  burst  out  a-ciy- 
ing;  "Tom  Price  is  as  good  a  boy  as  ever  lived;  it 
was  father  and  1  who  stole  the  apples!" 

It  would  have  done  your  heart  good  to  have  seen 
the  joy  of  the  master,  the  modest  blushes  of  Tom 
Price,  and  the  satisfaction  of  every  honest  boy  in  the 
school.  All  shook  hands  with  Tom,  and  even  Dick 
got  some  portion  of  pity.  But  while  Mr.  Wilson 
left  the  guilty  boy  to  the  management  of  the  master, 
he  thought  it  became  him,  as  a  minister  and  a  magis- 
trate, to  go  to  the  extent  of  the  law  in  punishing  the 
father.  Early  on  the  Monday  morning  he  sent  to 
apprehend  Giles.  In  the  meantime  Mr.  Wilson  was 
sent  for  to  a  gardener's  house  two  miles  distant,  to  at- 
tend a  man  who  was  dying.  This  was  a  duty  to 
which  all  others  gave  way  in  his  mmd.  He  set  out 
directly,  but  what  was  his  surprise,  on  his  arrival,  to 
see,  on  a  little  bed  on  the  floor,  poaching  Giles  lying 
in  all  the  agonies  of  death!  Jack  Weston,  the  same 
poor  young  man  against  whom  Giles  had  informed 
for  killing  a  hare,  was  kneeling  by  him,  ofl'ering  him 
some  broth,  and  talking  to  him  in  the  kindest  manner. 
Mr.  Wilson  begged  to  know  the  meaning  of  all  this^ 
and  Jack  Weston  spoke  as  follows : — 

"At  four  in  the  morning,  as  I  was  going  out  to 
mow,  passing  under  the  high  wall  of  this  garden,  I 
heard  a  most  dismal  moaning.  The  nearer  I  came 
the  more  dismal  it  grew.  At  last,  who  should  I  see 
but  poor  Giles  groaning,  and  struggling  under  a  quan- 
tity of  bricks  and  stones,  but  not  able  to  stir.  The 
day  before  he  had  marked  a  fine  large  net  on  this  old 
wall,  and  resolved  to  steal  it,  for  he  thought  it  might 
do  as  well  to  catch  partridges  as  to  preserve  cherries ; 
BO,  sir,  standing  on  the  very  top  of  this  wall,  and  tug- 
ging with  all  his  might  to  loosen  the  net  from  the 
hooks  which  fastened  it.  down  came  Giles,  net,  wall, 


162  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

and  all,  for  the  wall  was  gone  to  iecay.  It  was  very 
high,  indeed,  and  poor  Giles  not  only  broke  his  thigh, 
but  has  got  a  terrible  blow  on  his  head,  and  is  bruised 
all  over  like  a  mummy.  On  seeing  me,  sir,  poor 
Giles  cried  out,  '  Oh,  Jack  !  I  did  try  to  ruin  thee  by 
lodging  that  information,  and  now  thou  wilt  be  re- 
venged by  letting  me  lie  here  and  perish.'  '  God  for- 
bid, Giles!'  cried  I;  'thou  shalt  see  what  sort  of  re- 
venge a  Christian  takes.'  So,  sir,  I  sent  otY  the  garden- 
er's boy  to  fetch  a  surgeon,  while  I  scampered  home 
and  brought  on  my  back  this  bit  of  a  hammock, 
which  is  indeed  my  own  bed,  and  put  Giles  upon  it; 
we  then  lifted  him  up,  bed  and  all,  as  tenderly  as  if 
he  had  been  a  gentleman,  and  brought  him  in  here. 
Mj  wife  has  just  brought  him  a  drop  of  nice  broth; 
and  now,  sir,  as  I  have  done  what  I  could  for  this 
poor  perishing  body,  it  was  1  who  took  the  liberty  to 
send  to  you  to  come  to  try  to  help  his  poor  soul,  for 
the  doctor  says  he  can't  live." 

Mr.  Wilson  could  not  help  saying  to  himself.  "  Such 
an  action  as  this  is  worth  a  whole  volume  of  com- 
ments on  that  precept  of  our  blessed  Master,  Love 
your  enemies  ;  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you.^'  Giles's 
dying  groans  confirmed  the  sad  account  Weston  had 
just  given.  The  poor  wretch  could  neither  pray 
himself  nor  attend  to  the  minister.  He  could  only 
cry  out,  "  Oh  !  sir,  what  will  become  of  me  .'  I  don't 
know  how  to  repent.  O  my  poor  wicked  children  ! 
Sir,  I  have  bred  them  all  up  in  sin  and  ignorance. 
Have  mercy  on  them,  sir;  let  me  not  meet  them  in 
the  place  of  torment  to  which  I  am  going.  Lord, 
grant  them  that  time  for  repentance  which  I  have 
thrown  away !"  He  languished  a  few  days,  and  died 
in  great  misery — a  fresh  and  sad  instance  that  people 
who  abuse  the  grace  of  God,  and  resist  his  spirit, 
find  it  difficult  to  repent. 

Except  the  minister  and  Jack  Weston,  no  one  came 
to  see  poor  Giles,  besides  Tommy  Price,  who  had 
been  so  sadly  wronged  by  him.     Tom  often  brought 


WILY-S    THE    T-OACHER.  1 6'3 

him  his  own  rice-milk  or  apple-dumjxing,  and  Giles» 
ignorant  and  depraved  as  he  was,  often  cried  out, 
that  "  he  thought  now  there  must  be  some  truth  in 
rehgion,  since  it  taught  even  a  boy  to  deny  himself, 
and  to  forgive  an  injury.  Mr.  Wilson,  the  next  Sun- 
day, made  a  moving  discourse  on  the  danger  of  what 
?re  called  petty  offences. 


•  64  DOMESrii,'    TALKS    A«D    A»  i-KG0RIK3 


V.  THE  SERVANT  MAN  TURNED  SOLDIER. 


William  was  a  lively  young  servant,  who  lived  in 
a  great  hut  very  irregular  family.  His  place  was  on 
the  whole,  agreeable  to  him,  and  suited  to  his  gay 
thoughtless  temper.  He  found  a  plentiful  table  and 
a  good  cellar.  There  was,  indeed,  a  great  deal  of 
work  to  be  done,  though  it  was  performed  with  much 
disorder  and  confusion.  The  family,  in  the  main, 
were  not  unkind  to  him,  though  they  often  contra- 
dicted and  crossed  him,  especially  when  things  went 
ill  with  themselves.  This  William  never  much  liked, 
for  he  was  always  fond  of  having  his  own  way. 
There  was  a  merry,  or  rather  a  noisy  and  riotous  ser- 
vant's hall ;  for  disorder  and  quarrels  are  indeed  the 
ustial  effects  of  plenty  and  unrestrained  indulgence. 
The  men  were  smart,  but  idle ;  the  maids  were  showy 
but  licentious,  and  all  did  pretty  much  as  they  liked 
for  a  time,  but  the  time  was  commonly  short.  The 
wages  were  reckoned  high,  but  they  were  seldom 
jf.aid,  and  it  was  even  said  by  sober  people,  that  the 
family  was  insolvent,  and  never  fulfilled  any  of  their 
flattering  engagements,  or  their  most  positive  prom- 
ises; but  still,  notwithstanding  their  real  poverty, 
things  went  on  with  just  the  same  thoughtlessness 
and  splendor,  and  neither  master  nor  servants  looked 
beyond  the  jollity  of  the  present  hour. 

In  this  unruly  family  there  was  little  church-going, 
and  still  less  praying  at  home.  They  pretended,  in- 
deed, in  a  general  way,  to  believe  in  the  Bible,  but  it 
was  only  an  outward  profession,  few  of  them  read  it 


THE  SERVANT  MAN  TURNED  SOLDIER.     165 

at  all,  and  even  of  those  who  did  read  it  still  fewer 
were  governed  by  it.  There  was  indeed  a  Bible  lying 
on  the  table  in  the  great  hall,  which  was  kept  for  the 
purpose  of  administering  an  oath,  but  was  seldom 
used  on  any  other  occasion,  and  some  of  the  heads 
of  the  family  were  of  opinion  that  this  was  its  only 
real  use,  as  it  might  seiTe  to  keep  the  lower  parts  of 
it  in  order. 

William,  who  was  fond  of  novelty  and  pleasure, 
was  apt  to  be  negligent  of  the  duties  of  the  house. 
He  used  to  stay  out  on  his  en'ands,  and  one  of  his 
favorite  amusements  was  going  to  the  parade  to  see 
the  soldiers  exercise.  He  saw  with  envy  how  smartly 
they  were  dressed,  listened  with  rapture  to  the  music, 
and  fancied  that  a  soldier  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
walk  to  and  fro  in  a  certain  regular  order,  to  g-o 
through  a  little  easy  exercise,  in  short,  to  live  without 
fighting,  fatigue,  or  danger. 

O,  said  he,  whenever  he  was  affronted  at  home, 
what  a  fine  thing  it  must  be  to  be  a  soldier!  to  be  so 
well  dressed,  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  move  to 
the  pleasant  sound  of  fife  and  drum,  and  to  have  so 
many  people  come  to  look  at  one,  and  admire  one. 
O  it  must  be  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  soldier ! 

Yet  when  the  vexation  of  the  moment  was  over  he 
found  so  much  ease  and  diversion  in  the  great  family, 
it  was  so  suited  to  his  low  taste  and  sensual  appetites, 
that  he  thought  no  more  of  the  matter.  He  forgot 
the  glories  of  a  soldier,  and  eagerly  returned  to  all 
the  mean  gratifications  of  the  kitchen.  His  evil  hab- 
its were  but  little  attended  to  by  those  with  whom  he 
lived ;  his  faults,  among  which  were  lying  and  swear- 
ing, were  not  often  corrected  by  the  family,  who  had 
little  objection  to  those  sins  which  only  olfended  God 
and  did  not  much  affect  their  own  interest  or  property. 
And  excei)t  that  William  was  obliged  to  work  rather 
more  than  he  liked,  he  found  little,  while  he  was 
young  and  healthy,  that  was  very  disagreeable  in  his 
service.     So   he  went   on,   still   thinking,  however, 


166  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALIICORIES. 

when  thinss  went  a  little  cross,  what  a  fine  thing  i\ 
was  to  be  a  soldier !  At  last  one  day  as  he  was  wait- 
ing at  dinner,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  let  fall  a  china 
dish,  and  broke  it  all  to  pieces.  It  was  a  curious 
dish,  much  valued  by  the  family,  as  they  pretended  ; 
this  family  were  indeed  apt  to  set  a  false  fantastic 
value  on  things,  and  not  to  estimate  them  by  their 
real  worth.  The  heads  of  the  family,  who  had  gen- 
erally been  rather  patient  and  good-humored  with 
William,  as  I  said  before,  for  those  vices,  which 
though  offensive  to  God  did  not  touch  their  own  pock- 
et, now  flew  out  into  a  violent  passion  with  him,  called 
him  a  thousand  hard  names,  and  even  threatened  to 
horsewhip  him  for  his  shameful  negligence. 

William  in  a  great  fright,  for  he  was  a  sad  coward 
at  bottom,  ran  directly  out  of  the  house  to  avoid  the 
threatened  punishment ;  and  happening  just  at  that 
very  time  to  pass  by  the  parade  where  the  soldiers 
chanced  to  be  then  exercising,  his  resolution  was  ta- 
ken in  a  moment.  He  instantly  determined  to  be  no 
more  a  slave,  as  he  called  it ;  he  would  return  no 
more  to  be  subject  to  the  humors  of  a  tyrannical  fam- 
ily ;  no,  he  was  resolved  to  be  free  ;  or  at  least,  if  he 
must  serve,  he  would  serve  no  master  but  the  king. 

William,  who  had  now  and  then  happened  to  hear 
from  the  accidental  talk  of  the  soldiers  that  those  who 
served  the  great  family  he  had  lived  with,  were  slaves 
to  their  tyranny  and  vices,  had  also  heard  in  the  same 
casual  manner,  that  the  service  of  the  king  was^;er- 
fect  freedom.  Now  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to 
hope  that  this  might  be  a  freedom  to  do  evil,  or  at 
least  to  do  nothing,  so  he  thought  it  was  the  only 
place  in  the  world  to  suit  him. 

A  fine  likely  young  man  as  William  was,  had  no 
great  difficulty  to  get  enlisted.  The  few  forms  were 
soon  settled,  he  received  the  bounty  money  as  eagerly 
as  it  was  offered,  took  the  oaths  of  allegiance,  was  join- 
ed to  the  regiment  and  heartily  welcomed  by  his  new 
comrades.  He  was  the  happiest  fellow  alive.  All  was 
smooth  and  calm      The  day  happened  to  be  very  fine, 


THE  SERVANT  MAN  TURNED  SOLDIER.    ]  67 

and  therefore  William  always  reckoned  upon  a  fine 
day.  The  scene  was  gay  and  lively,  the  music  cheer- 
ful, he  found  the  exercise  very  easy,  and  he  thought 
there  was  little  more  expected  from  him. 

He  soon  began  to  flourish  away  in  his  talk ;  and 
when  he  met  with  any  one  of  his  old  fellow-servants, 
he  fell  a  prating  about  marches  and  counter-marches, 
and  blockades,  and  battles,  and  sieges,  and  blood,  and 
death,  and  triumphs,  and  victories,  all  at  random,  for 
these  were  words  and  phrases  he  had  picked  up  with- 
out at  all  understanding  what  he  had  said.  He  had  no 
knowledge,  and  therefore  he  had  no  modesty ;  he  had 
no  experience  and  therefore  he  had  no  fears. 

All  seemed  to  go  on  swimmingly,  for  he  had  as  yet 
no  trial.  He  began  to  think  with  triumph  what  a 
mean  life  he  had  escaped  from  in  the  old  quarrelsome 
family,  and  what  a  happy,  honorable  life  he  should 
have  in  the  army.  O  there  was  no  life  like  the  life 
of  a  soldier! 

In  a  short  time,  however,  war  broke  out,  his  regi- 
ment was  one  of  the  first  which  was  called  out  to  ac- 
tual and  hard  service.  As  "William  was  the  most  raw 
of  all  the  recruits  he  was  the  first  to  murmur  at  the 
difficulties  and  hardships,  the  cold  and  hunger,  the 
fatigue  and  danger  of  being  a  soldier.  O  what  watch- 
ings,  and  perils,  and  trials,  and  hardships,  and  difficul- 
ties, he  now  thought  attended  a  military  life  !  Surely, 
said  he,  I  could  never  have  suspected  all  this  misery 
when  I  used  to  see  the  men  on  the  parade  in  our  town. 

He  now  found,  when  it  was  too  late,  tliat  all  the 
field-days  lie  used  to  attend,  all  the  evolutions  and 
exercises  which  he  had  observed  the  soldiers  to  go 
through  in  the  calm  times  of  peace  and  siiR-ty,  were 
only  meant  to  fit,  train,  and  qualify  them,  for  the  ac- 
tual service  which  they  were  now  sent  out  to  perform 
by  the  command  of  the  king. 

The  truth  is,  William  often  complained  when  tliere 
was  no  real  hardship  to  complain  of;  for  the  common 
troubles  of  life  fell  out  in-eity  much  alike  to  the  grfat 
family  which  William  had  left,  and  to  the  soldiers  in 


168  DOMESTIC   TALES   AND   ALLEGORIES. 

the  king's  army.  But  the  spirit  of  obedience,  disci- 
pline, and  self-denial  of  the  latter,  seemed  hardships 
to  one  of  William's  loose  tmn  of  mind.  When  he 
began  to  murmur,  some  good  old  soldier  clapped  him 
oa  the  back,  saying, "  Cheer  up,  lad,  it  is  a  kingdom 
you  are  to  strive  for;  if  \ye  faint  not,  henceforth  there 
is  laid  up  for  us  a  great  reward  ;  we  have  the  king's 
word  for  it,  man."  William  observed,  that  to  those 
who  truly  believed  this,  their  labors  were  as  nothing, 
but  he  himself  did  not  at  the  bottom  believe  it ;  and  it 
was  obseiTed,  of  all  the  soldiers  who  failed,  the  true 
cause  was  that  they  did  not  really  believe  the  king's 
promise.  He  was  surprised  to  see  that  those  soldiers 
who  used  to  bluster  and  boast,  and  deride  the  assaults 
of  the  enemy,  now  began  to  fall  away  ;  while  such  as 
had  faithfully  obeyed  the  king's  orders,  and  believed  in 
his  word,  were  sustained  in  the  hour  of  trial.  Those 
who  had  trusted  in  their  own  strength,  all  fainted  on 
the  slightest  attack ;  while  those  who  had  put  on  the 
armor  of  the  king's  providing,  the  sword,  and  the  shield, 
and  the  helmet,  and  the  breastplate,  and  whose  feet 
were  shod  according  to  order,  now  endured  hardship  as 
good  soldiers,  and  were  enabled  to  fight  the  good  fight. 
An  engagement  was  expected  immediately.  The 
men  were  ordered  to  prepare  for  battle.  While  the 
rest  of  the  corps  were  so  preparing,  William's  whole 
thoughts  were  bent  on  contriving  how  he  might  de- 
sert. But  alas !  he  was  watched  on  all  sides,  he 
could  not  possibly  devise  any  means  to  escape.  The 
danger  increased  every  moment,  the  battle  came  on. 
William,  who  had  been  so  sure  and  confident  before 
he  entered,  flinched  in  the  moment  of  trial,  while  his 
more  quiet  and  less  boastful  comrades  prepared  boldly 
to  do  their  duty.  William  looked  about  on  all  sides, 
and  saAv  that  there  was  no  eye  upon  him,  for  he  did 
not  know  that  the  king's  eye  was  everywhere  at  once. 
He  at  last  thought  he  spied  a  chance  of  escaping,  not 
from  the  enemy,  but  from  his  own  army.  While  he 
was  endeavoring  to  escape,  a  ball  from  the  opposite 
camp  took  off  his  leg.     As  he  fell,  the  first  word 


THE   SERVANT   MAN    TURNED   SOLDIER.  169 

which  broke  from  him  were,  "  While  I  was  in  my 
duty  I  was  preserved  ;  in  the  very  act  of  deserting  I 
am  wounded."  He  lay  expecting  every  moment  to  be 
trampled  to  death ;  but  as  the  confusion  was  a  little 
over,  he  was  taken  off  the  field  by  some  of  his  own 
party,  laid  in  a  place  of  safety,  and  left  to  himself 
sfter  his  wound  was  dressed. 

The  skirmish,  for  it  proved  nothing  more,  was  soon 
orer.  The  greater  part  of  the  regiment  escaped  in 
safety.  William  in  the  meantime  suffered  cruelly 
both  in  mind  and  body.  To  the  pains  of  a  wounded 
soldier  he  added  the  disgrace  of  a  coward,  and  the  in- 
famy lerf  a  deserter.  "  O,"  cried  he,  "why  was  I  such 
a  fool  as  to  leave  the  great  family  I  lived  in,  where 
there  wks  meat  and  drink  enough  and  to  spare,  only 
on  account  of  a  little  quarrel  ?  I  might  have  made  up 
that  with  them  as  we  had  done  our  former  quarrels. 
Why.did  I  leave  a  life  of  ease  and  pleasure,  where  I 
had  only  a  little  rub  now  and  then,  for  a  life  of  daily 
discipline  and  constant  danger  ?  Why  did  I  turn 
soldier  ?     O  what  a  miserable  animal  is  a  soldier  !" 

As  he  was  sifting  in  this  weak  and  disabled  con- 
dition, uttering  the  above  complaints,  he  observed  a 
venerable  old  officer,  with  thin  gray  locks  on  his  head, 
and  on  his  face  deep  wrinkles  engraved  by  time,  and 
many  an  honest  scar  inflicted  by  war.  William  had 
heard  this  old  officer  highly  commended  for  his  extraor- 
dinary courage  and  conduct  in  battle,  and  in  peace  he 
used  to  see  him  cool  and  collected,  devoutly  employed 
in  reading  and  praying  in  the  interval  of  more  active 
duties.  He  could  not  help  comparing  this  officer  with 
himself.  "  I,"  said  he,  "  flinched  and  drew  back, 
and  would  even  have  deserted  in  the  moment  of  i»eril, 
and  now  in  return,  I  have  no  consolation  in  the  hour 
of  repose  and  safety.  I  would  not  fight  then,  I  can 
not  pray  now.  O  why  would  I  ever  think  of  being  a 
soldier?"  lie  then  began  afresh  to  weep  and  lament, 
and  he  groaned  so  loud  that  he  drew  the  notice  of  the 
officer,  who  came  up  to  him,  kindly  sat  down  by  him, 
16 


170  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND    ALLEGORIES. 

took  him  by  the  hand,  and  inquired  with  as  much  af« 
fection  as  if  he  had  been  his  brother,  what  was  the 
matter  with  him,  and  what  particular  distress,  more 
than  the  common  fortune  of  war  it  was  which  drew 
from  him  such  bitter  groans  ?  "I  Ivnow  something 
of  surgery,"  added  he,  "  let  me  examine  your  wound, 
and  assist  you  with  such  little  comfort  as  I  can." 

William  at  once  saw  the  difierence  between  the 
soldiers  in  the  king's  army,  and  the  people  in  the 
great  family ;  the  latter  commonly  withdrew  their 
kindness  in  sickness  and  trouble,  when  most  wanted, 
which  was  just  the  very  time  when  the  others  came 
fonvard  to  assist.  He  told  the  officer  his  little  his- 
tory, the  manner  of  his  living  in  the  great  family 
the  trifling  cause  of  his  quarrelling  with  it,  the  slight 
ground  of  his  entering  into  the  king's  service.  "  Sir," 
said  he,  "  I  quarrelled  with  the  family,  and  I  thought 
I  was  at  once  fit  for  the  army  :  I  did  not  know  the 
qualifications  it  required.  I  had  not  reckoned  on 
discipline,  and  hardships,  and  self-denial.  I  liked 
well  enough  to  sing  a  loyal  song,  or  drink  the  king's 
health,  but  I  find  I  do  not  relish  working  and  fighting 
for  him,  though  I  rashly  promised  even  to  la)-  down 
my  life  for  his  service  if  called  upon,  when  I  took  the 
bounty  money  and  the  oath  of  allegiance.  In  short, 
sir,  I  find  that  I  long  for  the  ease  and  the  sloth,  the 
merriment  and  the  feasting  of  my  old  sei-vice  ;  I  find 
I  can  not  be  a  soldier,  and,  to  speak  truth,  I  was  in 
the  very  act  of  deserting  when  I  was  stopped  short  by 
the  cannon  ball.  So  that  I  feel  the  guilt  of  desertion, 
and  the  misery  of  having  lost  my  leg  into  the  bar- 
gain." 

The  officer  thus  replied :  "  Your  state  is  that  of 
every  worldly  irreligious  man.  The  great  family  you 
served  is  a  just  picture  of  the  world.  The  wages  the 
world  promises  to  those  who  are  willing  to  do  its 
work  are  high,  but  the  payment  is  attended  with  much 
disappointment;  nay,  the  world,  like  your  great  family, 
is  in  itself  insolvent,  and  in  its  veiy  nature  incapable 
of  making  good  the  promises,  and  of  paying  the  liigl* 


THE    SERVANT    MAN    TURNED    SOLDIER.  171 

rewards  which  it  holds  out  to  tempt  its  credulous  fol- 
lowers. The  ungodly  world,  like  your  family,  cares 
little  for  church,  and  still  less  for  prajer ;  and  con- 
siders the  Bible  rather  as  an  instrument  to  make  an 
oath  binding,  in  order  to  keep  the  vidgar  in  obedience, 
than  in  containing  in  itself  a  perfect  mle  of  faith  and 
practice,  and  as  a  title  deed  to  heaven.  The  gener- 
ality of  men  love  the  world  as  you  did  your  service, 
while  it  smiles  upon  them,  and  gives  them  easy  work 
and  plenty  of  meat  and  drink  ;  but  as  soon  as  it  be- 
gins to  cross  and  contradict  them,  they  get  out  of  hu- 
mor with  it,  just  as  yoti  did  with  your  ser\'icc.  They 
then  think  its  drudgery  hard,  its  rewards  low.  They 
find  out  that  it  is  high  in  its  expectations  from  them, 
and  slack  in  its  payments  to  them.  And  they  begin 
to  fancy,  because  they  do  not  hear  religious  people 
murmur  as  they  do,  that  there  must  be  some  happi- 
ness in  religion.  The  world,  which  takes  no  account 
of  their  deeper  sins,  at  length  brings  them  into  dis- 
credit for  some  act  of  imprudence,  just  as  your  family 
overlooked  your  lying  and  swearing,  but  threatened 
to  drub  yoti  for  breaking  a  china  dish.  Such  is  the 
judgment  of  the  world  !  It  particularly  bears  with 
those  who  only  break  the  laws  of  God,  but  severely 
punishes  the  smallest  negligertce  by  which  they  them- 
selves are  injured.  The  world  sooner  pardons  the 
breaking  ten  commandments  of  God,  than  even  a 
china  dish  of  its  own. 

"  After  some  cross  or  opposition,  worldly  men,  as  I 
said  before,  begin  to  think  how  much  content  and 
cheerfulness  they  remember  to  have  seen  in  religious 
people.  They  therefore  fancy  that  religion  must  be 
an  easy  and  delightful,  as  well  as  a  good  thing.  Thej' 
have  heard  that,  her  ways  areways  of  pleasantness,  and 
all  her  paths  are  peace;  and  they  persuade  themselves 
that  by  this  is  meant  worldly  jjleasantness  and  sensua 
peace.  They  resolve  at  length  to  try  it,  to  turn  tlitir 
back  upon  the  world,  to  engage  in  the  service  of  (Jod, 
and  turn  Christians,  just  as  you  resolved  to  leave  your 
old  service,  to  enter  into  the  service  of  the  king,  and 


£72  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND    ALLEGORIES. 

turn  soldier.  But  as  you  quitted  your  place  in  k 
passion,  so  they  leave  the  world  in  a  huff.  They 
do  not  count  the  cost.  They  do  not  calculate  upon 
the  darling  sin,  the  habitual  pleasures,  the  ease  and 
vanities  which  they  undertake  by  their  new  engage- 
ments to  renounce,  any  more  than  you  counted  what 
indulgences  you  were  going  to  give  up  when  you 
quitted  the  luxuries  and  idleness  of  your  place  to  en- 
Ust  in  the  soldier's  warfare.  They  have,  as  I  said. 
Been  Christians  cheerful,  and  they  mistook  the  ground 
of  their  cheerfulness ;  they  fancied  it  arose,  not  be- 
cause through  grace  they  had  conquered  difficulties, 
biit  because  they  had  no  difficulties  in  their  passage. 
They  fancied  that  religion  found  the  road  smooth, 
%vhereas  it  only  helps  to  bear  with  a  rough  road  with- 
out complaint.  They  do  not  know  that  these  Chris- 
tians are  of  good  cheer,  not  because  the  world  is  free 
from  tribulation,  but  because  Christ,  their  captain,  has 
overcome  the  world.  But  the  irreligious  man,  who 
has  only  seen  the  outside  of  a  Christian  in  his  worldly 
intercourse,  knows  little  of  his  secret  conflicts,  his 
trials,  his  self-denials,  his  warfare  with  the  world 
without,  and  with  his  own  corrupt  desires  within. 

"The  irreligious  man  quarrels  with  the  world  on 
Bome  such  occasion  as  you  did  with  your  place.  He 
now  puts  on  the  outward  forms  and  ceremonies  of 
religion,  and  assumes  the  badge  of  Christianity,  just 
as  you  were  struck  with  the  show  of  a  field  day  ;  just 
as  you  were  pleased  with  the  music  and  the  march- 
ing, and  put  on  the  cockade  and  red  coat.  All  seems 
smooth  for  a  little  while.  He  goes  through  the  out- 
ward exercises  of  a  Christian,  a  degree  of  credit  at- 
tends his  new  profession,  but  he  never  suspects  there 
is  either  difficulty  or  discipline  attending  it ;  he  fancies 
religion  is  a  thing  for  talking  about,  and  not  a  thing 
of  the  heart  and  the  life.  He  never  suspects  that  all 
the  psalm-singing  he  joins  in,  and  the  sermons  he 
hears,  and  the  other  means  he  is  using,  are  only  as 
the  exercises  and  the  evolutions  of  the  soldiers,  to  fit 
and  prepare  him  for  actual  seiTice  ;  and  that  these 


THE    SERVANT    MAN    TURNED    SOLDIER  173 

means  are  no  more  religion  itself,  tban  the  exercises 
and  evolutions  of  your  parade  were  real  warfare. 

'•At  length  some  trial  arises;  this  nominal  Chris- 
tian is  called  to  differ  from  the  world  in  some  great 
point ;  something  happens  which  may  strike  at  his 
comfort,  his  credit,  or  security.  This  cools  his  zeal 
for  religion,  just  as  the  view  of  an  engagement  cooled 
your  courage  as  a  soldier.  He  finds  he  was  only 
angry  with  the  world,  he  was  not  tired  of  it.  He 
was  out  of  humor  with  the  world,  not  because  he  had 
seen  through  its  vanity  and  emptiness,  but  because 
the  world  was  out  of  humor  with  him.  He  finds 
that  it  is  an  easy  thing  to  be  a  fair-weather  Christian, 
bold  where  there  is  nothing  to  be  done,  and  confident 
where  there  is  nothing  to  be  feared.  Difficulties  un- 
mask him  to  others ;  temptations  unmask  him  to  him- 
self;  he  discovers,  that  though  he  is  a  high  professor, 
he  is  no  Christian;  just  as  you  found  out  that  your 
red  coat  and  your  cockade,  your  shoulder-knot  and 
your  musket,  did  not  prevent  you  from  being  a  coward. 

"  Your  misery  in  the  raihtaiy  life,  like  that  of  the 
nominal  Christian,  arose  from  your  love  of  ease,  your 
cowardice,  and  your  self-ignorance.  You  rushed 
into  a  new  way  of  life,  without  trying  after  one  quali- 
fication for  it.  A  total  change  of  heart  and  temper 
was  necessary  for  your  new  calling.  With  new 
views  and  principles,  the  soldier's  life  would  have  been 
not  only  easy,  but  delightful  to  you.  But  while  with 
a  new  profession  you  retained  your  old  nature,  it  is 
no  wonder  if  all  discipline  seemed  intolerable  to  you. 

"The  true  Christian,  like  the  brave  soldier,  is  sup- 
ported under  dangers  by  a  strong  faith  that  the  fruits 
of  that  victory  for  which  he  fights  will  be  safety  and 
peace.  But,  alas  !  the  pleasures  of  this  world  are 
present  and  visible ;  the  rewards  for  which  he  strives 
are  remote.  He  therefore  fails,  because  nothing  short 
of  a  lively  faith  can  ever  outweigh  a  strong  present 
temptation,  and  lead  a  man  to  i)refer  the  joys  of  con- 
quest to  the  pleasures  of  indulgence." 


174  DOMESTIC    TALES   AND    ALLEOORIEa. 


Vr.  THE  GENERAL  JAIL  DELIVERY. 


There  was  in  a  certain  country  a  great  king,  who 
was  also  a  judge.  He  was  very  merciful,  but  he  was 
also  very  just,  for  he  used  to  say  that  justice  was  the 
foundation  of  all  goodness,  and  that  indiscriminate 
and  misapplied  mercy  was,  in  fact,  injustice.  His 
subjects  were  apt  enough,  in  a  general  way,  to  extol 
hJ8  merciful  temper,  and  especially  those  subjects  who 
were  always  committing  crimes  which  made  them 
particularly  liable  to  be  punished  by  his  justice. 
This  last  quality  they  constantly  kept  out  of  sight, 
till  they  had  cheated  themselves  into  a  notion  that  he 
was  too  good  to  punish  at  all. 

Now  it  had  happened  a  long  time  before,  that  this 
whole  people  had  broken  their  allegiance,  and  had  for- 
feited the  king's  favor,  and  had  also  fallen  from  a  very 
prosperous  state  in  which  he  had  originally  placed  them, 
having  one  and  all  become  bankrupts.  But  when 
they  were  over  head  and  ears  in  debt,  and  had  nothing 
to  pay,  the  king's  son  most  generously  took  the  whole 
burden  of  their  debts  on  himself,  and,  in  short,  it 
was  proposed  that  all  their  affairs  should  be  settled, 
and  their  very  crimes  forgiven,  for  they  were  crimi- 
nals as  well  as  debtors,  provided  only  they  would 
show  themselves  sincerely  sorry  for  what  they  had 
done  themselves,  and  be  thankful  for  what  had  been 
done  for  them.  A  book  was  also  given  them,  in 
which  a  true  and  faithful  account  of  their  own  rebel- 
Mon  was  written,  and  of  the  manner  of  obtaining  the 
King's  pardon,  together  with  a  variety  of  directions 


THE   GENERAL    JAIL    DELIVERY.  175 

for  their  conduct  in  time  to  come,  and  in  this  book  it 
was  particularly  mentioned,  that  after  having  hved  a 
certain  number  of  years  in  a  remote  part  of  the  same 
king's  country,  yet  still  under  his  eye  and  jurisdic- 
tion, there  should  be  a  grand  assizes,  when  every  one 
was  to  be  publicly  tried  for  his  j)ast  behavior ;  anci 
after  this  trial  was  over,  certain  heavy  punishments 
were  to  be  inflicted  on  those  who  should  have  still 
persisted  in  their  rebellion,  and  certain  high  premiums 
were  to  be  bestowed  as  a  gracious  reward  upon  the 
penitent  and  obedient. 

This  king's  court  differed  in  some  respect  from  oui 
courts  of  justice,  being  a  sort  of  court  of  appeal,  to 
which  questions  were  carried  after  they  had  been 
imperfectly  decided  in  the  common  courts!  And  not 
merely  outward  sins,  but  sins  of  the  heart  also  were 
brought  to  light  and  resei-ved  for  this  great  day. 
Among  these  were  pride,  and  oppression,  and  envj-, 
and  malice,  and  revenge,  and  covelousness,  and  secret 
vanity  of  mind,  and  evil  thoughts  of  all  sorts,  and  all 
sinful  wishes  and  desires.  The  sins  of  the  heart  were 
by  far  the  most  numerous  sort  of  sins  which  were  to 
come  before  this  great  tribunal,  and  those  were  to  be 
judged  by  this  great  king  in  person,  and  by  none  but 
himself,  because  he  alone  possessed  a  certain  power 
of  getting  at  all  secrets. 

Now  you  may  be  ready  to  think,  perhaps,  that 
these  people  were  worse  off  than  any  others,  because 
they  were  to  be  examined  so  closely,  and  judged  so 
strictly.  Far  from  it;  the  king  gave  them  a  book  of 
directions  ;  and  because  they  were  naturally  short- 
sighted he  supplied  them  with  a  glass  for  reading  it, 
and  thus  the  most  dim-sighted  might  see,  if  they  did 
not  willingly  shut  their  eyes;  but  though  the  king 
invited  them  to  open  their  eyes  he  did  not  covijkI 
them.  Many  remained  stone  blind  all  their  lives  with 
the  book  in  their  hand,  because  they  would  not  use 
the  glass,  nor  take  the  jiroper  means  for  reading  and 
understanding  all   that  was  written  inr  tlicin.      Th« 


176  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORtES. 

humble  and  sincere  learned  in  time  to  see  even  tnat 
part  of  the  book  which  was  least  plainly  written,  and 
it  was  obseiTcd  that  the  ability  to  understand  it  de- 
pended more  on  the  heart  than  the  head ;  an  evil 
disposition  blinded  the  sight,  while  humility  operated 
liive  an  eye-salve. 

Now  it  happened  that  those  who  had  been  so  lucky 
as  to  escape  the  punishment  of  the  lower  courts,  took 
it  into  their  heads  that  they  were  all  veiy  good  sort 
of  people,  and  of  course  very  safe  from  any  danger  at 
this  great  assize.  This  grand  intended  trial,  indeed, 
had  been  talked  of  so  much,  and  put  off  so  long,  for 
it  had  seemed  long  at  least  to  these  short-sighted  peo- 
ple, that  many  persuaded  themselves  it  would  never 
take  place  at  all :  and  far  the  greater  part  were  living 
away,  therefore,  without  ever  thinking  about  it;  they 
went  on  just  as  if  nothing  at  all  had  been  done  for 
their  benefit,  and  as  if  they  had  no  king  to  please,  no 
king's  son  to  be  thankful  to,  no  book  to  guide  them- 
selves by,  and  as  if  the  assizes  were  never  to  come 
about.  But  with  this  king  a  thousand  years  u-ere  as 
a  day,  for  he  was  not  slack  concerning  his  jjromises,  as 
some  men  coimt  slackness.  So,  at  length,  the  solemn 
period  approached.  The  day  came,  and  every  man 
found  that  he  was  to  be  judged  for  himself;  that  all 
his  secrets  were  brought  out,  and  that  there  was  now 
no  escape,  not  even  a  short  reprieve;  and  some  of  the 
worst  of  the  criminals  were  got  together,  debating  in 
an  outer  court  of  the  grand  hall ;  and  there  they 
passed  their  time,  not  in  compunction  and  tears,  not 
in  comparing  their  lives  with  what  was  required  in 
that  book  which  had  been  given  them,  but  they  de- 
rived a  fallacious  hope  by  comparing  themselves  with 
such  as  had  been  mofe  notorious  offenders.  One 
who  had  grown  wealthy  by  rapine  and  oppression, 
but  had  contrived  to  keep  within  the  letter  of  the  law, 
insulted  a  poor  fellow  as  a  thief,  because  he  had  stol- 
len  a  loaf  of  bread.  "You  are  far  wickeder  than  I 
Was,"  said  a  citizen  to  liis  apprentice,  "for  you  diaak 


THE    GENERAL    JAIL    DELIVERY.  177 

and  swore  at  the  ale-house  eveiy  Sunday  night." 
"Yes,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  "but  it  was  your  fault 
that  I  did  so,  for  you  took  no  care  of  my  soul,  but 
spent  all  your  sabbaths  in  jaunting  abroad  or  in  riot- 
ing at  home  ;  I  might  have  learnt,  but  there  was  no 
one  to  teach  me ;  I  might  have  followed  a  good  ex- 
ample, but  I  saw  only  bad  ones.  I  sinned  against 
less  light  than  you  did," 

I  can  not  describe  the  awful  pomp  of  the  court,  and 
shall  only  notice  a  few  who  claimed  a  right  to  be 
rewarded  by  the  king,  and  even  deceived  themselves 
so  far  as  to  think  that  his  own  book  of  laws  would 
be  their  justification.  A  thoughtless  spendthrift  ad- 
vanced without  any  contrition,  and  said  that  he  had 
lived  handsomely,  and  had  hated  the  covetoiis,  whom 
God  abhorreth  ;  that  he  trusted  in  that  passage  of 
the  book  which  said,  that  covetovsness  was  idolatry, 
and  that  he  therefore  hoped  for  a  favorable  sentence. 
Now  this  man  had  left  his  wife  and  children  in 
want  through  his  excessive  prodigality.  The  judge 
therefore  immediately  pointed  to  that  place  in  the 
book  where  it  is  written.  He  that  i^'rovidelh  not  for 
his  household  is  worse  than  an  infidel.  He  that  liveth 
in  pleasure  is  dead  while  he  liveth.  "  Thou,"  said  he, 
"  in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy  good  things,  and  now 
thou  must  be  tormented,"  Then  a  miser,  whom  hun- 
ger and  hoarding  had  worn  to  skin  and  bone,  crept 
forward,  and  praised  the  sentence  jiassed  on  this  ex- 
travagant youth,  "and  surely,"  said  hr,  "since  he  is 
condemned,  I  am  a  man  that  may  make  some  plea  to 
i'avor.  I  have  been  so  self-denying  that  I  am  cer- 
tainly a  saint ;  I  have  loved  neither  father  nor  mother, 
Hor  wife  nor  children,  to  excess.  In  all  ihis  I  have 
obeyed  the  book  of  the  law."  Then  the  judge  said, 
"But  where  are  thy  works  of  mercy  and  thy  labors 
of  love;  see  that  family  which  ])eri.shed  in  thy  sight 
last  hard  winter,  while  thy  barns  were  overflowing  ; 
that  poor  family  were  luy  representatives;  yet  they 
■were  hungry,  and  thou  gavest  theiu  no  meat.     (Jo  to. 


173  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

now,  thou  rich  man,  wecjj  and  howl  for  the  7nis€7ies  that 
are  come  upon  you.^' 

Then  came  up  one  with  a  most  self-sufficient  ai|. 
He  walked  up  boldly,  having  in  one  hand  the  plan  of 
an  liospital  which  he  had  built,  and  in  the  other  the 
drawing  of  a  sl0tue,  which  was  erecting  for  him  in 
the  country  that  he  had  just  left,  and  on  his  forehead 
appeared,  in  gold  letters,  the  list  of  all  the  public 
charities  to  which  he  had  subscribed.  He  seemed  to 
take  great  pleasure  in  the  coiidemnation  of  the  miser, 
and  said,  "  Lord,  when  saw  I  thee  hungry  and  fed 
thee  not,  or  in  prison  and  visited  thee  net  ?  I  have 
visited  the  fatherless  and  widow  in  tlieir  aflliction." 
Here  the  judge  cut  him  short,  by  saying,  "True, 
thou  didst  visit  the  fatherless,  but  didst  thou  fulfil 
equally  that  other  part  of  my  command,  '  to  keep 
thyself  unspotted  from  the  world.'  Thou  wast  con- 
formed to  the  world  in  many  of  its  sinful  customs ; 
thou  didst  follow  a  multitude  to  do  evil;  tliou  didst 
love  the  world  and  the  things  of  the  world  ;  and  the 
motive  to  all  thy  charities  was  not  a  regard  to  me  but 
to  thy  own  credit  with  thy  fellow-men.  Thou  hast 
done  everything  for  the  sake  of  reputation,  and  now 
thou  art  vainly  trusting  in  thy  deceitful  works,  instead 
of  putting  all  thy  trust  in  my  Son,  who  has  offered 
himself  to  be  a  surety  for  thee.  Where  has  been 
that  humility  and  gratitude  to  him  which  was  required 
of  thee.  Thou  wouldst  be  thine  own  surety ;  thou 
hast  trusted  in  thyself;  thou  hast  made  thy  boast  of 
thine  own  goodness  ;  thou  hast  sought  after  and  thou 
hast  enjoyed  the  praise  of  men,  and  verily  I  say  unto 
thee,  '  thou  hast  had  thy  reward.'  " 

A  poor  diseased  blind  cripple,  who  came  from  the 
very  liospital  which  this  great  man  had  built,  then  fell 
prostrate  on  his  face,  crying  out,  "  Lord,  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner!"  on  which  the  judge,  to  the  surprise 
of  all,  said,  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant." 
The  poor  man  replied,  "  Lord,  I  have  done  nothing." 
"But  thou  hast   'suifered  well,'"  said  the  judge 


THE    GENERAL    JAIL    DELIVERY.  17^ 

'tiiou  hast  been  an  example  of  patience  and  meek- 
ness, and  though  thou  hadst  but  few  talents,  yet  thou 
hast  well  improved  those  few  ;  thou  hadst  time  ;  this 
thou  didst  spend  in  the  humble  duties  of  thy  station, 
and  also  in  earnest  prayer ;  fhoti  didst  pray  even  for 
that  proud  founder  of  the  hospital,  who  never  prayed 
for  himself;  thou  wast  indeed  blind  and  lame,  but  it 
is  nowhere  said,  my  son,  give  me  thy,  feet,  or  thine 
eyes,  but  give  me  thy  heart ;  and  the  few  faculties  I 
did  grant  thee  were  employed  to  my  glory;  with  thine 
ears  thou  didst  listen  to  my  word,  with  thy  tongue 
thou  didst  show  forth  my  praise;  'enter  thou  into  the 
joy  of  thy  Lord.'  " 

There  were  several  who  came  fonvard,  and  boasted 
of  some  single  and  particular  virtue,  in  which  they 
had  been  supposed  to  excel.  One  talked  of  his  gen- 
erosity, another  of  his  courage,  and  a  third  of  his 
fortitude  ;  but  it  proved  on  a  close  examination,  that 
some  of  those  supposed  virtues  were  merely  the  effect 
of  a  particular  constitution  of  body ;  that  others  ))ro- 
ceeded  from  a  false  motive,  and  that  not  a  few  of  them 
were  actual  vices,  since  they  were  carried  to  excess; 
and  under  the  pretence  of  fulfilling  one  duty,  some 
other  duty  was  lost  sight  of;  in  sliort,  these  partial 
virtues  were  none  of  them  practised  in  obedience  to 
the  will  of  the  king,  but  merely  to  ))lease  the  person's 
own  humor,  or  to  gam  praise,  and  they  would  not, 
therefore,  stand  this  day's  trial,  for  "  he  that  had  kejit 
the  whole  law,  and  yet  had  wilfully  and  haiiitually  of- 
fended in  any  one  point,  was  declared  guilty  of  break- 
ing the  whole." 

At  this  moment  a  sort  of  thick  scales  fell  from  tho 
eyes  of  the  multitude.  They  could  now  no  longer 
take  comfort,  as  they  had  done  for  so  many  years,  by 
measuring  their  neighbors'  conduct  against  their  own. 
Each  at  once  saw  himself  in  liis  true  li^lit,  and  found, 
alas  !  when  it  was  too  late,  that  he  shoulil  have  made 
the  book  which  had  been  given  him  his  rule  of  |)rac- 
tice  before,   since    it  now  pnjved  to   l^e  the  rule  by 


180  DOMESTIC    TALES    AND    ALLEGORIES. 

which  he  was  to  be  judged.  Every  one  now  thought 
himself  even  worse  than  his  neighbor,  because,  while 
he  only  saic  and  heard  of  the  guilt  of  others,  he  felt 
his  own  in  all  its  aggravated  honor. 

To  complete  their  confusion,  they  were  compelled 
to  acknowledge  the  justice  of  the  judge  who  con- 
demned them ;  and  also  to  approve  the  favorable  sen- 
tence by  which  thousands  of  other  criminals  had  not 
only  their  lives  saved,  but  were  made  happy  and  glo- 
rious beyond  all  imagination  ;  not  for  any  great  mer- 
its which  they  had  to  produce,  but  in  consequence  of 
their  sincere  repentance,  and  their  humble  acceptance 
of  the  pardon  offered  to  them  by  the  king's  son.  One 
thing  was  remarkable,  that  while  most  of  those  who 
were  condemned,  never  expected  condemnation,  but 
even  claimed  a  reward  for  their  supposed  innocence 
or  goodness,  all  who  were  really  rewarded  and  for- 
given were  sensible  that  they  owed  their  pardon  to  £ 
mere  act  of  grace,  and  they  ci'ied  out  with  one  voice 
"  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  thy  name  be  tb 
praise !" 


TEX  ESD' 


/^ 


J^OS  ^\f^\^^    00618  9524 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A         001  433  697  f 


